


Rare in an Imperfect World

by KilledTheQueen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale pack, Alternate Universe - X-Men Fusion, Homelessness, M/M, Mutant Derek Hale, Mutant Stiles, Runaway Stiles, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilledTheQueen/pseuds/KilledTheQueen
Summary: New York in winter was supposed to be idyllic; skating at Rockefeller plaza, walking along snowy streets in designer mittens and coats. The truth was a little far from that though, especially if you were a homeless eighteen year old on the run from a shady government organization that wanted to kill you because you could read better than them.





	1. Chapter One

> **_"Mutants. Since the discovery of their existence they have been regarded with fear, suspicion, often hatred. Across the planet, debate rages. Are mutants the next link in the evolutionary chain or simply a new species of humanity fighting for their share of the world? Either way it is a historical fact: Sharing the world has never been humanity's defining attribute." - Charles Xavier_ **

 

It’s approximately half past two in the morning and Stiles is hunkered down between the stacks of the Beacon County Community Library. His legs are drawn up, back resting against an uncomfortable metal shelf and rain damp sneakers soaking into the carpet. The lights are off overhead, and his phone, combined with the street lights reflecting through the windows, is giving off just enough light to see by. The library closed at eight of course, just like every other day. It wasn’t hard to break in though, at least once he worked his way through all the available books on lock picking and security system wiring.

Stiles has chosen nonfiction tonight. A stack of books that he’s already absorbed sits on his left and more to his right that he’s yet to get to. He sets a book on the pile to the left as information on the Maya Biosphere Reserve settles into his mind and is interpreted at rates that Stiles never could have imagined before his fifteenth birthday. He’s seventeen now, and in between school and working part time at the sheriff’s office for his father, Stiles has managed to absorb all of the books in Beacon Hills’ own small library and has moved on to the larger county library. He sighs picking up the next book, this one on Mayan Temples, and setting it in his lap. 

Stiles sometimes wonders if he’s addicted, to information and knowledge and the strength it gives him. His powers are easy to hide. Sure at school he sometimes has to dumb himself down, but he’d always been smart, a front runner for valedictorian, it wasn’t odd that he finally surpassed Lydia Martin. Even if he did so without having to try too hard. As long as he didn’t go spouting off Fields Medal level math or reciting the book they were reading in english by heart, it wasn’t so hard to pass under the radar. 

Stiles pressed his hand down on the smooth cover of the book in his lap. Closing his eyes and concentrating, smiling softly as information swept from the book, images and words entering his mind and settling in tidy patterns of knowledge that he could pull from any time. It didn’t take long to absorb the book. He’d long ago discovered that it took his gift about one second to absorb one hundred pages of text. Maybe a little longer if the book concerned new skills or languages that had to be absorbed and thoroughly learned. 

It was dangerous to be a mutant. Sentinel Services, a program ostensibly formed to protect the public from those mutants who colored outside the lines of the law, were less discerning these days. As long as you had the X gene, they’d find a reason to detain you. Stiles learned that much from absorbing his dad’s case files. 

It was three am when Stiles left the library, having absorbed information from a handful of other books and carefully re-shelving them. He reset the alarm system and managed to lock the door behind him with his pick set, before walking the two blocks to his jeep. He never parked in the library parking lot, there was too big of a chance that a patrolling officer would stop to investigate an abandoned car in a closed library lot. Though his power was harder to detect than most, he didn’t take any chances. 

The drive home was quiet, neighborhood streets empty and house lights dimmed, typical for a Wednesday night in the suburbs. His dad’s cruiser wasn’t in the driveway, an indication that he was working yet another double shift. Stiles had developed some thoughts about staffing techniques that could help with all the overtime the sheriff was having to work. He’d only have to hire two new deputies, but so far he hadn’t been able to get his dad to listen. 

One odd side effect of using his power, was that Stiles had very vivid dreams. For instance, that night he dreams of huge golden step pyramids surrounded by ocellated turkeys that wore brightly colored dresses and spouted strange riddles that Stiles thinks are meant to be prophecies. “The palace of gifts will reveal the stars” one whispers, while another wails “Two by two, men in blue!”, which Stiles thinks might just be a misquoted Firefly reference. Either way, by the time he wakes up his brain is still firing on all cylinders from the stimuli.

School is a slog, as it has been every day since he lost his best friend Heather to school district rezoning. His powers only amplify his boredom. He knows the answers to all the questions that will be asked. Not only that, but he knows where those answers came from, who developed them and what implications they have in other fields. The only thing he can’t come up with, he thinks as his shoulder is violently slammed into an adjacent locker, is why Jackson Whittemore is such a douche. Well okay, he may have some theories from a psychological profile he put together on the fly, but the fact remains...douche.

He’s in third period, listening to Mr. Harris drone on with his usual tone of superiority, about complex ions, when a knock comes at the door. “Excuse me for interrupting” Ms. Morell says, turning from Mr. Harris to look around the room, “I need…”her eyes land on Stiles, “Mr. Stilinski, can you come with me?”

“Uh, yeah sure.” Stiles says, grabbing his bag from the floor and following the well dressed guidance counselor from the room. He hears some whispers follow him out the door, no doubt wondering what Stiles could have done to earn a trip to the office. After all, he’s only seen as the quiet, sometimes sarcastic asshole who doesn’t have any friends. What could he have possibly done? Stiles actually works hard to keep the unassuming quiet kid persona going, the sarcastic asshole part just kind of slips out. 

Ms. Morell ushers him into her office and motions for him to take a seat in the chair in front of her desk. Stiles can’t help but feel antsy, just like the kids in his class, he has no idea what he’s doing here either. “So…” he starts, “What’s up, doc?” Morell smirks slightly, probably aware that the last time Stiles had been in the room what shortly after his mother died, to get counseling. 

“Stiles,” she begins, “Do you have any idea why you’re here?” He shakes his head in answer, “I happened to be going over the latest round of SAT results.” Stiles freezes, and he knows without a doubt she catches it. “There have been some questions.” Stiles tries to think back to the day he took the test, he was sick, the flu, and had dragged himself into school to take the test anyway, it wasn’t cheap and he wasn’t about to make his dad pay for it again. “Do you have any idea what your score was?” 

“Uh, good?” He guesses, voice cracking at the end. He had known to pick some wrong answers, to make sure he didn’t get a score that would make him an extreme outlier, but he can’t remember much about the test to be honest. He can only hope that it wasn’t…

“A perfect score, Stiles.” shit. 

“Are...are you sure? I mean you could have someone else’s test. Like, are you sure there wasn’t a mix up, or…?”

“Stiles, you drew cartoons in the margins explaining answers in greater detail and insisting the test was designed for…” Morell looked down at the paper in front of her, which was apparently his graded test, goddamnit sick Stiles! “Orangutans who can’t understand simple mechanics past flinging their own feces.”

“Uh, crap, yeah that sounds like me…” he sighs, leaning back in his chair. “But I can explain, you see, I...cheated!”

“You cheated, and then decorated your test in crude drawings of mathematicians explaining your answers in greater detail?” Okay, yeah, well when she put it like that. “Stiles, I have to let you know, that two representatives from sentinel services are here.”

“What?” Stiles’ heart began to beat harder, “Wh-why would they be here?”

“Stiles you finished the test in under an hour, with a perfect score and back up evidence to support the fact that you could not have cheated. It raised some red flags.” Stiles’ breath caught, how could she be so calm about this, how could he have been so careless? 

“So what? I can’t be smart without being a mutant?” Ms. Morell looked unimpressed, 

“I think we both know, that after your mother died you started experiencing things that weren’t quite normal.” 

Stiles was quiet for a moment, willing the panic building in his chest to settle, it wouldn’t help him now. Sentinel Services were in the building, they were waiting for him. When he left the office he had to be level headed, he had to be able to think of every possible excuse or explanation for his SAT score. He couldn’t go with them, the people Sentinel took never got out, and they never got a trial. 

“You need to run.” Wait, what? Stiles looked up at the guidance counselor who was biting her lower lip. “I can only stall them for so long.” she continued, “I have a bathroom attached to my office,” she said nodding towards a small door in the corner, “There’s a window.” Stiles only stalled a moment before bursting up from his chair and grabbing his backpack. He made his way over to the door quickly, his mind running a million miles a minute, wondering if the two officers had backup waiting outside of if they deemed his power non-threatening enough to not need it. “Stiles” Morell called, “You can’t go home.” Stiles’ heart sunk.

__

 

New York in winter was supposed to be idyllic; skating at Rockefeller plaza, walking along snowy streets in designer mittens and coats. The truth was a little far from that though, especially if you were a homeless eighteen year old on the run from a shady government organization that wanted to kill you because you could read better than them. 

Stiles brought his worn plaid coat tighter around his slim frame. The wool was wet and smelled a bit, but the charity that had handed it out at the shelter hadn’t wanted anything from him in exchange, so Stiles cherished it on days like today. It was just nearing Christmas, Thanksgiving having been a week ago, and the temperature had dropped overnight. Stiles made his way inside the local teen shelter. It was early enough that he was assured a bed, and late enough that he wouldn’t have to hang out with his fellow homeless for too long. 

It wasn’t that Stiles had anything against people like him, no home, no connections, nowhere to go. He understood that, he lived that. Everyone had baggage and it manifested itself in a lot of different ways, and yeah some people had some personality disorders, but he understood. The thing that he couldn’t stand was the lack of physical boundaries. There was no personal space bubble in a homeless shelter. That for Stiles, was a problem.

It hadn’t taken Stiles long to realize that a result of being on the run at seventeen, leaving your only family and your life behind, was an inordinate amount of stress. Stress that, in others, might have manifested itself as panic attacks or sweaty palms, but for him, resulted in a broadening of his powers. Suddenly he could not only absorb books, he could absorb people. He could read them; see their past, their worries and their trauma with one touch. 

It was hard to turn off at first, as scared and alone as he was. A year later he has it under control, for the most part, but when he's tried it still sneaks through the cracks in his mind. He doesn’t have quirky vivid dreams any more. His dreams are of pain and addiction and unwanted sexual contact. He wakes screaming most mornings. 

“Hey, Noah” Jasmine smiles up at him from a cot along the wall. It’s a prime spot, not having to have strangers on both sides of you, and Stiles takes the one beside her. “How is it out there?”

“Oh you know,” Stiles smirks, taking off his thin gloves and rubbing his fingers together to get feeling back to the tips, “cold as hell and alienating as ever.” Jasmine nods, shrugging her coat higher on her bony shoulders. She’s no stranger to alienation, having been kicked out of her family home for coming out at fourteen. She pushes and smooths her plush afro back from her face, wrapping it in a small bun. Her makeup looks more garish under the harsh shelter lights, bright pink lips stained and little smeared from whatever client she took earlier in the night, silver eye shadow coloring the area under her bottom eyelashes. She was still beautiful though, high cheekbones and plush lips, with eyes that smiled when she did, and she did smile. A lot more than Stiles did. “Did you get anything to eat tonight?” She asks, eyeing the community table that was quickly emptying of sandwiches and water bottles. 

“Yeah” Stiles pulls his backpack from behind him, unzipping the front pocket and taking out a bag of half eaten jerky he’d found near the 81st Street subway station. He offers her some, and she takes it shyly, and thanks him with a smile. 

He doesn’t see Jasmine often, but if he had to say, he’d say she’s the closest thing he’s made to a friend in the past year. He’d traveled a long way from California, wanting to keep as much space between him and the Sentinels as he could, and trying to ensure his dad would be kept out of their investigation as much as possible. To say the journey had been harrowing was an understatement. In the month that it took him to walk, hitch or otherwise travel across the country, he’d experienced more trauma than he could have imagined. It was amazing what strangers would do to others for fun. He knew, however, that he hadn’t gone through half as much as people like Jasmine. 

The first night Stiles spent in a New York shelter had scared him more than anything he’d experienced before. It was only Jasmine walking in to the same place that saved him from melting down entirely. She must have recognized the hunted look in his eyes, because she’d sat down on the cot next to him and walked him through the ropes. How things worked at the shelters, which were best, the best areas of the floor to sleep, and how to make sure you got food, and that night she’d held his hand as he slept. 

He’d seen everything, he hadn’t known how to shut it off yet, just starting to realize the depths of his new power. In the morning he looked at her with wonder. How could a girl be so kind after what she’d been through, after what she’d had to resort to just to get by? If Jasmine was a mutant, her power would undoubtedly be the ability to comfort others and help them look on the bright side. It never fully worked on Stiles, but he was glad that she had that unshakable faith in the world to see her through these dark days. 

That night Stiles didn’t dream about other’s trauma, but his own. Flashes of a big rig cabin, thick fingers pulling at his clothes, reaching for his crotch. He remembers running out of cash in Utah, the first time he’d been forced to dive into a dumpster, the first time he got so sick he from eating rotten food he thought he might die. Knowing that he couldn’t go to a hospital without Sentinel Services tracking him down. Lying in his own vomit in a dimly lit alley way, just waiting for the stomach cramps and cold sweat to ease. He remembers the first time someone offered him warmth and ride for a sexual favor and how tempted he was. He remembers the time he wasn’t offered, laying used and discarded on the side of the road in Ohio. 

Stiles wakes up screaming again, and doesn’t dare fall back asleep. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, as Stiles enters the Museum of Natural History, he thanks whatever higher deity holds sway over New York City for the free admission policy for school groups. Their ragtag and self involved nature makes it easy to sneak in alongside them. He gets to the museum around 9am, early enough to make sure he doesn't miss many of the morning arrivals, but late enough that he doesn't sit around too long and catch museum security's attention. The first bus that arrives is from an elementary school, no good to him. He watches as they march in with their hands linked together, ensuring no one wanders off. The next bus to arrive though is full of high schoolers from a public school, no uniforms to worry about. Stiles gets up from the place he'd taken on a bench near the street, and ducks into line as a school bus empties. He tucks himself between a few students that look around his age, ignoring the curious looks he gets from a couple of them and lets the momentum of the sea of bodies carry him forward. It’s easy from there to make his way up the stairs and through the archway of the grand stone entry.

Stiles caught sight of a poster the other day, while he was working for a local shop under the table, passing out flyers and coupons on 7th Ave. It advertised a new exhibit, "The Dark Universe”. It was part of the museum planetarium’s new series, and the poster boasted exploding stars and swirling galaxies. He'd gotten closer, reading the details as soon as he was done with his work. The advertisement noted that the presentation would focus on space exploration and recent discoveries made by space agencies around the world. Stiles had immediately known he  _ had _ to see it, with so much work being done in space in the last year, he felt like he was always behind no matter how many trips to the library he made. So, he made plans to visit the museum as soon as he could spare the time. 

Sneaking into museums is something he does often. There’s so much knowledge to absorb, and in a city like New York, the exhibits are always changing or being updated. No one pays close attention to a teenager without a chaperone. Patrons and staff are either too involved in their own little worlds as they examine the objects contained in the various glass cases, or in the case of many students, too busy bending over their phones on any of the available benches. So Stiles can often go a whole day without being approached. Next to the NYU library, museums are his favorite places in the city. Also, New York winters are beyond bitter, and being out of the cold is a benefit that he never takes for granted. 

Stiles pulls off his gloves as he splits off from the school group, shoving them in his pockets along with the free metropass they’d given him at the shelter before he’d left that morning. That, an old Altoids tin that holds a picture of his family and his old driver’s license with the name scratched off, are all the belongings he really has anymore. His scraggly backpack holds a single change of clothes and a sandwich he’d managed to swipe from the shelter kitchen. 

The museum is a little crowded, which is surprising considering that it’s a Tuesday, but as he looks around he can see that there are several other school groups milling around already. A fact which makes him smile, hopefully one of them has tickets to the Dark Universe exhibit. With new pushes into space exploration and developments in astrophysics, Stiles has been on a research kick regarding everything there is to know on the subject of dark matter. Neil Degrasse Tyson is his current idol. Though, last month it was Mary Leakey and her discovery of early man, so who knows how long this will last. 

Stiles spends the morning walking around the now familiar museum, keeping a partial eye on all the school groups for any heading towards the special exhibition area. It’s just past eleven o’clock when he sees a group of kids his age start towards the planetarium, and Stiles spares no thought before joining their group. He settles in towards the back, not garnering any attention from the surrounding students who all seem to be well into their conversations as they walk. They’re just past the ticket taker, which he’s managed to avoid by pushing himself closer to the center of the group, when a girl lets out a sharp laugh and iridescent wings sprout from her back. 

Every once in a while Stiles sees another mutant, one that can’t hide who they are, but they’re few and far between. Those who are obviously different tend to stay out of crowded public spaces, avoiding attention as much as possible. In this case though, the girl doesn’t seem to think anything of it and no one around the girl seems alarmed, or even surprised. The wings disappear almost as quickly as they appeared, shimmering out of sight as if hidden by some kind of glamour. 

Stiles straggles along with the kids in a shocked shuffle of feet, looking around to see is anyone besides himself is stunned by the reveal. No one is looking though, they all continue into the theater as if nothing had happened. For a moment, Stiles wonders if he imagined it. If the stress and hunger and fear have finally gotten to him, but he knows what he saw. He’s sure of it, and as he looks closer at the girls arms, where they protrude from under her t-shirt, he can see the outline of wings, like a tattoo against her skin, but shimmering with iridescent color and moving just slightly. Mutant. There’s no doubt. 

He continues to follow the group into the planetarium, taking a seat quickly a couple rows back from the girl and her friends. He can feel himself start to panic, wondering if the staff saw the girl’s mutation. Did they report it? Are Sentinel Services on their way? Should he run? He knows he should go, he can’t afford exposure, not after all he’s done to escape capture. Something keeps him in his seat as the lights go down though.  

His eyes settle on the girl again as the show begins. He hardly even notices the swooping awe inspiring galaxies flashing overhead. His mind blank as a result of shock and fear. The girl is two rows up, surrounded by a group of friends who are giggling and whispering under their breaths. They seem like they couldn’t care less about the show they’re seeing. Stiles feels his cheeks burn and his hands clench on his arm rests. He’s upset, he actually can’t believe what’s happening.  He went through so much trouble, casing the place, camouflaging himself with various school groups, waiting for an opportunity to get into the planetarium, and now he can’t focus. It’s unfair, he thinks, that these kids get to take this experience for granted. They don’t understand the privilege they have, being able to sit in the theater without fear of Sentinel Services breaking the door down. And how is that possible? Why is she so different from him? Why does she, with her iridescent wings, get to walk around freely while he lives on the streets in hiding? 

The boy next to the girl whispers something in her ear, and she puts a hand over her mouth, smiling and covering the sound of her laugh. Then Stiles just feels sick. The girl looks young and worry free. She looks like a girl that once upon a time Stiles could have been friends with. Her blonde curls even remind him a bit of Heather, and here he is angered by her happiness, that she can do things that he can’t. This is how closeted conservative politicians are created. He doesn’t need that kind of negativity infringing on his already tragic freaking life. 

With a sigh, Stiles picks up his backpack and rises from his seat near the back of the room. He’ll try again another day, right now he just needs to take himself out of the situation. He walks up the aisle, ducking so as not to disturb the other students’ views and pushes through the exit door. 

The light outside the auditorium blinds him for a moment, and when he can see clearly again, he notices a group of people staring at him with puzzled expressions. “You’re not one of ours…” a short woman with fuschia hair and green eyes says. She’s obviously a mutant, her green irises unnatural in her almond shaped eyes and a small glowing jewel sitting in the middle of her forehead. 

“Uh, no, sorry…” Stiles starts to walk past, but a large man with dark skin and bulging muscles steps in front of him. 

“Where did you come from?” the man asks, looking concerned, even though his body is built for intimidation. 

“I got lost” Stiles says, not meeting any of their eyes, the last thing he needs to do is get caught in the middle of some mutant stand-off. 

“Why are you lying?” the big man asks.

“I’m not lying.”

“Uh, honey” a blonde woman says, stepping closer, “if Boyd here says you’re lying, you’re lying.”

“Okay” Stiles sneers, “so what if I am? What’s it to you?” He needs to get out of here, people around them seem to have stopped to gawk at the unusual group and Stiles does not need the attention.

“We’re not going to hurt you.” Boyd says calmly. 

“Who says I’m worried about you?” Stiles asks, aware that he’s getting worked up, but unable to stop the nervous energy building inside him. There could be anyone watching them, seeing him associate with other mutants...

“Hey, calm down alright?” The blonde says, a look of concern floating over her face, “Like the mountain of a man said, we’re not going to hurt you.”

“Great,” Stiles says, he can feel his chest constricting, a familiar warning sign. “Then I guess you can let me go.” 

“Wait a minu…” The blonde starts, but Boyd shakes his head, and she steps back, letting him pass. 

“Great,” Stiles breathes, “see ya never.” 

Stiles heads straight out the front entrance of the museum, not sparing a glance at anything but the sliver of blue sky he can see beyond the doors. The air outside is frigid but welcome and calming, and he takes a few long pulls through his nose, before moving off a bit further to sit on the stairs. 

He can’t get caught. He just can’t. He doesn’t know what Sentinel Services does to the mutants they “acquire” but he can guess, and he’s not sure how well he’d survive. He can only imagine bouts of experimentation and torture followed by forced use of his powers. He doesn’t understand how a group of mutants can just be walking around so freely, on a field trip of all things. As if they’re untouchable, as if the Sentinels wouldn’t take any opportunity they could to apprehend them. 

After he’s calmed down, his body shaking off the last vestiges of panic, he can admit that that oddity of the group makes him curious despite his better judgement. He’s never seen anything like it. Mutants in a group like that. At least he assumes they were all mutants. The kids that were surrounding the girl with the wings didn’t flinch when they came out, so they must have all been used to seeing them. The group outside the auditorium, teachers? Chaperones? They didn’t seem much older than Stiles, but at least one was obviously a mutant and Boyd seemed to have, if not some telepathy, at least some strong empathetic skills. So, all mutants? A whole class of mutants? How is that even possible?

An hour later he’s still sitting outside the museum when the class exits, his mind unable to let the whole thing go. They flow down the stairs, not paying an iota of attention to the rough looking kid watching them. The Asian woman with the fuchsia hair leads them down to the sidewalk, heading down the street and around the corner to bus parking. Not for the first time, Stiles curses his own need to know everything, before he finds himself shouldering his backpack and following the group slowly from behind. 

He keeps back far enough that he doesn’t attract any attention, but can keep the last of the group in sight. Tailing people was a skill he’d learned from his father even before his X gene activated. He stops a few feet back, behind a light pole and watches as the teens climb into a yellow bus with Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters painted on the side. He scoffs at the writing, ‘ _ gifted indeed _ ’ he thinks, watching as the blonde woman checks off the name of the last student to board the bus and climbs on herself. 

The bus sits still though, instead of driving off once everyone is on board. Stiles watches for a few moments, but the longer it sits there the more paranoid he becomes, wondering if someone noticed him after all. He pulls back, shaking himself and deciding that the best course of action is just to get out of there before anyone notices him. 

He turns around and loses his footing immediately, stumbling and almost falling over the front of some poor guy’s wheelchair. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” he says, righting himself with a hand to the arm of the older man’s chair, “I didn’t see you.” 

“No worry at all, Stiles.” the man says. Stiles’ eyes widen at the use of his given name, and he turns quickly to make a get away. ‘You know,’ a voice echoes in his mind, ‘there are other ways to stay off the radar.’ Stiles stills as images of a castle? flow though his mind. Not a castle, a school. A school for people like him. An all mutant school run by the man in the chair. A school that teaches control and defense. A school so powerful even Sentinel Services won’t dare to approach it. 

“Well,” Stiles wheezes as pictures stop assaulting his mind, “why didn’t you just say so?”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter two characters speak a language other than English, and I relied on Google Translate, so please forgive my mistakes.

Stiles doesn’t get on the bus with the other children, instead the Professor, Charles Xavier, Stiles now knows thanks to the fancy psychic introduction, ushers him back towards the museum. He doesn’t say anything, simply gesturing to Stiles to follow him before he starts rolling back the way they’d come. Stiles isn’t sure why he’s simply accepting this guy at his word. He’s come across a couple too good to be true scenarios on his travels over the last year, and they all turned gruesome really quick. Of course none of those involved a telepathic mutant and a busload of kids like him. 

He shuffles along the sidewalk, skidding the toes of his beaten up converse along the salt covered concrete. He’s nervous, his hands are shaking and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, roaring through his head as he considers all the ways this could go wrong, could be a trap. The images the professor shared with him were so vivid though, so real, it was hard to believe the man could simply make up that much detail. 

They come to a stop along a classic black SUV, and Stiles feels an uptick in his heart rate. It looks just like every other purposely inconspicuous vehicle, but right now he’d prefer if the professor rode in a neon pink monster truck. It would remind him less of close calls with certain government organizations. A woman is leaning up against the side of the car, impatiently tapping her foot, but she smirks when she notices the professor. “And what kind of time do you call this?” she asks. 

“I’m sorry, Laura” Professor Xavier replies, giving her an amused smile. “I seem to have acquired a new student on the way from the museum.” 

“A newbie, huh?” she turns to Stiles, with a completely unsurprised look. “Well welcome. Now get your cute butt in the car. If you two make my darling brother wait any longer he might send out a search party.” 

Stiles waits for the Professor to get settled first, with a little help from Laura he maneuvers into the back seat with practiced efficiency, “Come along Stiles,” The Professor says, motioning for Stiles to take the seat next to him, “I can promise, that no harm will come to you while at my school.” 

Stiles has no reason to believe him. None at all, they just met, and though he’s a mutant, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a friend. Something calls to him though, something about the warm but authoritative air he projects and his ease with the driver. It makes him want to trust.  _ “What the hell _ ” he thinks, choosing to accept the risk, he walks around the car and climbs into the back passenger seat while Laura stores the Professor’s chair in the trunk. 

Laura sighs as she takes her place in the driver’s seat, bouncing a little with apparent excess energy, before she starts the car and they roll smoothly into mid-afternoon traffic. The drive is long, even after they exit the city. They roll past sleepy suburbs, passing only the occasional parent pushing a jogging stroller or harried person on their lunch break. The view out of the window is alien to him after spending so much time in the city. It reminds him uncomfortably of Beacon Hills, of home. If it wasn’t for the dusting of snow, he could almost imagine he was on his way to the station to drop off lunch for his dad. Tearing his eyes away from the window, Stiles inhales and chooses to focus on a thread sticking out on the thumb of one of his fraying gloves. 

He does his best not to think about his dad. Not only because he misses him, which he does, oh god how he misses him, but because he doesn’t want to think of how much his father is missing him too. They were all each other had left after Stiles’ mom passed. Leaving him without a word was probably the biggest betrayal Stiles could have committed against him. 

The car rolls on for a while longer and by the time Stiles dares to look out of the window again there’s more long open swaths of green space than buildings. Up front, Laura has turned down the music and is talking to the Professor about something that Stiles doesn’t really understand but mostly seems to involve oddly timed jokes and sarcasm. It takes Stiles’ mind off of things though and for that he’s extremely grateful.

The two make an odd pair, The Professor, is older, but Stiles has a hard time trying to determine his age, he could be anywhere from 40 to 60, with a bald head and svelte figure. He resonates a quiet calm and assuredness that is soothing and mysterious in turns. He also radiates power. So much so, that Stiles has trouble keeping his ability at bay. It instinctively wants to reach out and read him. The Professor doesn’t talk too much on the drive, though he answers any questions Stiles has. “This isn’t a cult, right? Because you could see how this kind of seems like a mutant cult?” Laura laughs so hard she almost drives off the road, and the professor simply assures him that it’s simply a school. A school that he is more than free to come and go from as he pleases.

Laura, in contrast to the Professor, is a bit wild. She moves constantly, as if the energy inside her needs to be released every so often or she’ll combust. She adjusts herself in her seat, plays with the rearview mirror, and spends time adjusting the temperature settings in car, all without really seeming to notice she’s doing it. She has long dark chocolate colored hair that contrasts with her ivory skin, and a curvy figure that accentuates the tailoring of her leather jacket. Her lips are painted dark and she offers Stiles a sly smile every once in a while, as if to let him in on whatever she’s joking about. Stiles loves her immediately. 

After a while, Laura pulls off the interstate and turns on to a long curving road, passing a ornately carved sign that reads Salem Center, New York. The road winds down into a valley, in which a small town, Salem Center if the sign is to be believed, sits. The town is small, smaller even than Beacon Hills, with a smattering of well appointed and large family homes and a thriving main street that tourist guides would call “charming”. They pass through the hamlet, and Stiles wonders at the change in the pace of life just 45 minutes outside of the city. 

Laura sighs in relief as she turns onto a road subtly hidden behind a copse of trees. The path is secluded and peaceful, wooded areas on each side, and up ahead a pair of ornate iron gates stand open, ready to welcome them. She pulls through, proceeding up to a large stately home. The sun is still high in the sky, and standing outside the school Stiles can see a a group of students milling around to the right as they make their way up the driveway. They are all listening to a teacher lecturing about something and their faces light up with smiles as a rose bush suddenly blossoms in the winter cold. Stiles tries not to gawp. 

Laura pulls into an large open garage, parking in a free space next to a sleek black camaro that Stiles would very much like to get his hands on. “Don’t salivate too much, newbie” Laura says as they exit the car, “my baby is not for student driving.” 

“This is yours?” he asks.

“Why so shocked?”

Stiles looks her up and down, tight jeans, leather jacket and practical but stylish leather boots. “I guess I’m really not, it suits you.”

“Oh, I like you.” She smiles, as another student with red hair steps up to the vehicle. “Hey there squirt.” Laura says greeting the young girl, who just rolls her eyes and smiles up at the professor, who in turn levitates out of the car and into his wheelchair. Yep, that just happened. 

“Professor,” The young girl says, once the professor is seated in his chair, “Joey says that you’re late for our lesson.” 

“And so I am,” The professor agrees, “Why don’t you run along to your brother and let him know that I’ll be there shortly, alright?” The girl smiles, nodding once and then takes off like a shot back into the building.  

“So, everyone here has...powers?” Stiles asks, as the professor begins leading them inside through a side door. 

“An ability,” Xavier stresses, “yes. Everyone here carries the X gene and everyone here is learning to control and respect the abilities they have been granted.” Stiles nods in understanding as they enter a large kitchen. It’s empty, something that Stiles can’t help but be a grateful for. He’s feeling a little overstimulated from the day he’s having. 

“So, is it common, you know, for mutants to have more than one ability?”Stiles asks, before today he hadn’t heard of another mutant that had developed more than one power. “Like you can obviously communicate telepathically, and fly?”

Across the room Laura snorts as she sits down on a long wooden bench and begins to munch on an apple. Xavier gives her a patient if reprimanding look, to which Laura just smiles shrugging her shoulders and motioning the professor to answer Stiles’ question.  “No,” Xavier finally answers, “Not common. I myself have telepathy. Gaylin out there is the one with telekinesis, meaning she can-”

“Make objects move without touching them.” Stiles rolls his eyes, “I know what the word mean.”

“Well of course you would, wouldn’t you” Xavier smiles, “Being able to absorb knowledge from a single touch, is a powerful skill.” 

“One touch?” Laura asks between bites, “Like osmosis?” Stiles shrugs, it was probably pretty lame compared to what most people here could do. 

“Don’t be so modest” Xavier continues, “Stiles can not only absorb information through osmosis, he can file it, understand it, and remember it. Tell me, how many languages can you speak now?”

“Seven?” he guesses,and Laura lets out an impressed whistle. 

“Stiles…” Xavier raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“Fine, twelve.” He rolls his eyes. “You know it’s polite to wait until you’re asked to enter someone’s mind.” 

Laura laughs, “Oh you are going to fit right in.” 

Stiles smiles, feeling more comfortable with Laura’s down to earth nature. A moment later though he nearly has a heart attack as a sudden bamf and a soft cloud of blue smoke produces a man with indigo skin and a tail. 

“Professor?” The man says, stopping when he sees Stiles’ no doubt gob-smacked expression, “Oh sorry, to interrupt.”

“Not to worry, Kurt” The Professor answers, as the blue man wraps his spiked tail around himself like a security blanket. 

“Hallo, I’m Kurt Wagner” the man says with a subtle German accent, holding out his three pronged hand for Stiles to shake.

“Hallo,  es ist schön dich zu treffen.”

“Oh, you speak German!” Kurt smiles.

“Poorly” Stiles shrugs. 

“No, es ist wunderbar!” Kurt insists, “It will nice to have someone around to speak with….” he leads searching for a name.

“Oh, sorry, Stiles, I’m Stiles.”

“Well, es ist schön, sie kennenzulernen, Stiles.” Then he turns to the professor, “You’re needed.”

“Of course, “Xavier nods, “When you’re ready.” Kurt steps towards the professor, putting a hand on his shoulder and with another bamf and a cloud of smoke they’re both gone. 

“Holy shit….”

“I’ll just show you around and get you settled.” Laura says, with a smile. He’s sure it’s obvious that he’s both impressed and overwhelmed. 

Laura takes him on a tour of the grounds. The main building itself is large, encompassing student housing and a number of classrooms. Across the snow covered lawn is a second building holding computer labs and some more high tech science labs that are definitely on Stiles’ things I desperately need to see list. There is also, he finds, tucked away behind rows of ivy and meticulously pruned shrubbery, a two story tudor house that holds the library. Stiles almost lashes out at Laura when she refuses to let him go in during the tour. 

She takes him through the basketball court and alongside a covered olympic size swimming pool on the way back to the main building. Then, she tells him the secret. Though Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters seems like a posh boarding school, and honestly, in most ways it is. The school is also home to an elite group of mutant “warriors” known as the X-Men. 

“Warriors? Really Laura?”  

“Shut up, Newbie”

Now, Stiles has heard of the X-Men, because despite living on the street for the last year, he does not in fact, live under a rock. Some see the X-Men as terrorists. Others see them as a power for good against, what no one really debates, is a malicious faction known as the Mutant Brotherhood. Still others, like Stiles, believe them to be more like freedom fighters. They’re doing their best to protect the public while campaigning for mutant rights and the freedom to live as normal people. He immediately asks if he can join. Laura immediately cuffs him in the back of the head and tells him to hold his horses, but Stiles can tell she’s secretly rooting for him. 

“So what’s your ability?” Stiles asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Laura smiles, flashing golden glowing eyes at him, but giving nothing more away. 

After the tour Laura takes Stiles to an office, inside Professor Xavier is already seated at his desk and ready for them. Stiles takes a seat across from him, trying hard not to recall the last time he was in a similar position. Laura closes the door after them and comes to sit in the chair next to Stiles. 

“So Stiles, what did you think of the grounds?” 

“It’s very impressive, sir.” Stiles replies, not knowing why he’s suddenly calling him “sir” but figuring that it has something to do with the fact that he now knows Xavier is the leader of the X-Men. 

“But you’re still uneasy” The Professor notes. 

“It’s…” Stiles stalls, because the place is great. If he were to wish in his darkest moments for a sanctuary or a reprieve from his life, he would of thought of a place like this. There is something holding him back from accepting the school at face value though. He’s seen a lot himself and absorbed a lot from other people, and he knows now, that when you have something ,it’s easier and more painful to lose than when you have nothing. 

“Don’t worry yourself,” Xavier says, voice comforting and soft, “I cannot pretend to understand what you’ve experienced at such a young age, but I promise, if you give it a chance, this change will be good. It will be for the better.” Stiles can only nod, unable to trust his voice. “Now, let’s get some paperwork done so we know where to start you in your lessons.” Stiles breathes deeply, thankful for the change to topic. “You’ll need a mentor, all students have one.” Beside him Laura is crossing her fingers and closing her eyes, “and since Laura has already taken such a shine to you…”

“Yes!” Laura proclaims, shaking Stiles’ shoulder.

“...she seems to be the logical pick.”

“Are you sure, Professor?” Stiles asks, “I mean how many of her mentees actually make it to graduation?” Laura smacks him on the back of the head. “Hey! That is abuse!”

After a lengthy conversation in which Stiles’ SAT scores are related and verified, it’s decided that they’re going to fast track Stiles through a condensed senior year and try to graduate him after the first semester of school. That way he’s still 18 when he graduates and it looks better on college transcripts. Stiles isn’t sure he’s ever going to feel safe enough to go to college, but the idea of getting school over with is nice, so he agrees. 

It’s two days before Winter break for the students, at which time many of them will be going home, and at which time none of them will have classes. So it’s pretty much the best and worst time for Stiles to start. Worst because school work would have kept him occupied and his curiosity sated. Best because, well, no school. 

Laura tells him that he’ll have a roommate. Which everyone does except faculty and staff. Laura apparently teaches motor vehicle mechanics, which is so fitting it hurts. It is also really great because it’s a skill that lots of kids can learn and earn money using once they graduate. 

After their meeting with Xavier, Laura leads him up to the third floor of the west wing, Stiles does his best not to make a Beauty and Beast reference, and knocks on a door marked 306. 

The first impression Stiles has of Scott McCall is that the kid is weird. He crowds the door when he opens it, trying not to let Laura see in and his voice is high and strained. “Uh, hey! Professor Hale! What-what brings you up to the ole third floor?” 

“I’m here,” Laura raises one condescending eyebrow, “because you’ve been assigned a new roommate.”

“Oh wow! Really? Now? That’s- hi! That’s so, so great! Do you think you could, you know, maybe come back in like…” something behind the boy crashes.

“What do you have now, McCall?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Scott laughs nervously, his leg seeming to move erratically. 

“Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to physically remove you from the doorway?” the kid sighs and moves back, just in time for Stiles and Laura to watch a wrinkly puppy tumble off of a bed and onto the floor. The puppy, because it is a puppy despite being at least fifteen pounds, sits on the floor as if stunned for a moment, before getting back up and shaking his wrinkled face. Stiles takes it back, Scott McCall is going to be the best roommate ever. Stiles had always wanted a dog, but with his dad’s work schedule it was never able to happen. 

The puppy runs forward, straight to Stiles and Stiles immediately kneels down to welcome it. He can feel all the puppy’s feelings, excitement, exhilaration, love and hunger in that order. He climbs into Stiles’ lap, licking at the underside of his chin and wiggling its little stub of a tail. His fur is black and smooth and Stiles pets down his sides, trying to send feelings of protection and love back at the pup. The dog immediately settles, curling up in Stiles’ arms and planting it’s head on Stiles’ shoulders. 

“How, but what?” Scott says, watching the pup’s reaction to Stiles. “I have been trying to get him to lay down for two hours!”

“Scott,” Laura sighs, “You know you’re not allowed to have pets in your room.”

“But Laura, that’s my mutation! I can literally talk to animals, how am I supposed to learn how to use my ability if you guys won’t even let me have a pet?”

“We’re talked about this, it wouldn’t be fair to rest of the students.” 

“None of the other students have my mutation!” Scott replies, it’s obviously an argument they had several times. “I mean look at him…” Scott points to the dog that is still in Stiles’ arms, “Fang is literally calling that guy his mom! To take him now would be cruel!”

“Fang?” Stiles asks, “like Harry Potter?” Scott nods, “He’s staying.” Stiles says, brooking no argument. 

“That’s not your call” Laura answers.

“Look, I could stand here and sprout all kinds of studies and verified evidence that says that the more a mutant practices their skills, the more well adjusted and better off they will be in the future, but I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you already know that.” Stiles smirks when Laura narrows her eyes, “If the argument is that it isn’t fair to other students, allow them to have an item which pertains to their abilities in their rooms, just as Scott will have Fang.” Stiles stands up right with the puppy in his arms, “or, better yet, let's just not tell anyone, and if anyone asks, we’ll just say it’s temporary until a home is found for him. Eventually kids will stop caring and Fang will just be like the school mascot.”

Laura lets out a big sigh, “I don’t know a thing about this.” She says, pointing to both boys in turn. “You’re lucky you’re my favorite” she tells Stiles before turning and walking back down the hall.

“Wait- how is he your favorite, he just got here!?” Scott calls after her. Laura flips them the bird behind her back and keeps walking. She, Stiles decides, is the absolute best. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that in this chapter Stiles is sexually assaulted, the scene is not very long, but it could be uncomfortable for those with trauma.
> 
> _________________________________________________________________  
> _________________________________________________________________

When Stiles wakes up the next morning, the sun is high in the sky and the bed across from him is empty. Scott had mentioned classes while they were playing video games the night before, and Stiles assumes that’s where he is now. The clock on the nightstand next to him reads Ten AM, and Fang is sitting beside the bed whining in a way that lets Stiles know that he needs to be let out. 

With a sigh, he heaves himself up from the comfort of the first real bed he’s had in months. He’d had trouble falling asleep at first, used to sleeping on hard concrete or firm cots at the shelters. The bed was like a cloud, warm and soft and, to his mind, alien. He’d slept deeply though, once he’d finally managed to pass out. 

Fang yips, circling around his legs, as Stiles runs a hand through his messy hair, feeling the oil from the days since his last brief wash in a coffee shop sink, turn it into an even bigger mess. Crossing the room, he reaches down, grabbing his discarded jeans and slipping them over his hips. He finds his chucks under his bed, and tugs them on before grabbing his plaid coat and leading Fang out into the hall. 

It’s weird for him, being there. In a place he doesn’t have to be on high alert. It’s all still too good to be true, and he can’t help looking around, trying to spot the catch. The one that will make him say “oh, now it makes sense”, because this is not how life works. People take advantage or they only look out for themselves. At least that’s what his life has taught him as of late. A part of him though, can still remember the way it felt to be warm and safe and loved at home in California. It’s only that part of him that keeps him there, following the waddling pup down the hallway. 

The corridor outside his room is lined with expensive looking carpet runners, muting the plodding of Fang’s big paws. Tables sit outside each door, with uniform lamps and places for students to sit things as they struggle with their books and backpacks. The walls are lined with boughs of evergreen, ribbons and twinkling lights placed meticulously within their foliage. The area smells like pine, and it reminds Stiles that It’s nearly Christmas. It will be his second away from home. 

Kids in the hallways pay him no mind, other than to smile down at Fang as they pass. They’re all well, if some rather uniquely, dressed and carrying books and bags on their way between classes. Stiles feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb, tattered donated jacket, jeans wearing thin at the knees and scuffed shoes with duct tape holding one of the soles together. He can’t worry about that now though. He has no money to get new clothes with and there’s only one more day before the majority of the students are going home for the holidays anyway. 

Stiles makes his way down to the ground floor, finding a door that he believes leads out into the back. He opens it and follows Fang out into the frigid cold. It’s cooler than the day before he thinks, though he’s unsure if that’s because they’re in the country with less to block the icy wind, or if he’d just been so used to roughing it outside before his night in a real bed. Fang walks out without a care, doing his business quickly behind a snowbank and making his way back in, shaking his fur out as he crosses the threshold. Stiles follows the wrinkly pup, blushing as his stomach rumbles noisily and a group of passing kids cast him curious glances. 

“If you’re quick, you can still catch some breakfast in the kitchen” a voice says, and Stiles turns to see Boyd, the large man from the museum, standing to the side of the entryway. Another man is next to him that Stiles has yet to meet, an open book in his hand as if he’d been showing Boyd something moments before. 

“Oh, uh thanks” Stiles nods. He looks around, the school is big, but he thinks he can probably find his way back to the kitchen. 

“I’ll take you” the stranger says, “I could use some coffee.” Without further adieu, the man turns stalking off down the hall. Stiles has to speed up to follow, Fang jogging jauntily at his side. 

It’s not far to the kitchen, and there are a few plates of pancakes, and several boxes of cereal lined up along the counter. Leftovers he assumes, from this morning’s rush. Stiles quickly grabs the box of frosted flakes and pours himself a bowl, as the man who led him busies himself by the impressive looking coffee machine. The room fills with the earthy smell of coffee grounds as the machine starts dispensing liquid, causing Stiles to relax. He was never allowed coffee, or much caffeine at all, due to his ADHD, but his father drank more than his fair share, and Stiles always enjoyed the smell. 

Standing in the morning light, the stranger turns, preparing his drink, and Stiles does his best not to stare. He has dark hair and serious eyebrows, with a chiseled jawline that boasts a styled shadow of stubble. His arms are muscled and flex under his navy sweater as he pours cream into his mug. (Stiles thinks he might sigh.) He’s tall too, maybe an inch or two taller than Stiles himself, and muscular. He’s for a lack of another word, striking. If Stiles thought he had any sort of libido left after his experiences, he’s sure he’d be real embarrassed as green/blue/hazel/what the fuck is that color?, eyes look up at him. 

“Can I help you?” the man says, raising a single eyebrow. Stiles stills, feeling heat fill his cheeks. He’s saved by Fang though, who hops up, putting his front paws on Stiles’ knees to get closer. “You know pets aren’t allowed, right?”

“Nope” Stiles says, brushing off his embarrassment and lifting the little guy up into his arms, “Fang here has been given an unofficial pardon on the no pets rule.”

“According to who?” The guy looks skeptical. 

“My mentor, Laura,” he answers, as Fang sets his wrinkly face on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

“First of all,” The man says, scoffing at the innocent puppy dog look Stiles attempts to send him. He assumes Fang is doing the same, “you’re supposed to call her Professor Hale.”

“Yeah, that ship has sailed.” Stiles smirks, “and second?”

“It sounds like something my sister would let slide.”

“Laura is your sister?” Stiles asks, though he’s not really surprised. He remembers Laura mentioning a brother yesterday, and she and this guy share a dark and brooding type of beauty.  

“Or so they tell me.” He says, taking a sip from his coffee.

“Oh please” Laura interrupts, barging into the kitchen as if summoned by her name, and stealing the mug from her brother’s hands. “You would be lost without your older, more wise and supportive sister.” she hops onto the counter, sending Stiles a wink.

“You are literally 2 minutes older, I don’t think that really entitles you to call yourself wiser.” 

“Well Derek,” and Stiles only rejoices a little, having a name to go with the...everything. “I think you will find that my wisdom comes from not being a crabby hermit who only leaves the compound for grocery runs and the occasional curfew violation.” Derek rolls his eyes, apparently used to the ribbing, “Stiles here”  she continues, “has more life experience than you.”

Derek scoffed, “I think I have more life experience than a 16 year old you picked up at a museum.”

“Hey, I’m 18 dude.”

“And a genius” Laura adds. “But he is kind of right, Stiles, you look young. It could be because you’re such a beanpole though.” Stiles looked down at himself. A year ago he was lithe but muscular from playing lacrosse and running the trails in the nearby nature preserve. Since then his physical appearance has never been something he really worried about. It certainly didn’t take precedence over where his next meal was coming from, or if he’d have a safe place to sleep for the night. 

“Don’t you have a class you’re supposed to be teaching?” Derek asks his sister, stealing back his coffee and setting an empty mug on the counter next to her legs for her to fill up. 

“It just so happens I do.” She smirks, patting Stiles head as she makes her way out of the room. 

“Sorry about her,” Derek says, refilling his coffee mug. “We were raised by wolves, Laura never grew out of it.”

“Ha!” Stiles laughs, “please, you guys have nothing on the shelter residents of New York.” Derek’s forehead wrinkles, and Stiles can see the beginning of a sympathetic apology coming, so he heads it off at the pass, setting Fang down on the floor and picking up his cereal bowl. “I think I’m going to go get familiar with this place’s hot water heater.” Derek nods, letting the moment pass, thank  _ god _ . If there’s one thing Stiles doesn’t need or want it’s sympathy. “Thanks for showing me where they store the grub.” He may steal the entire box of Frosted Flakes on his way out. 

__

In Stiles’ third week on the run, he walked into a truck stop late at night. Cliche maybe, but it was the only place open in the two stoplight town. He’d managed to scrape together a few bucks by holding a cardboard sign by the highway exit ramp. He’d also gotten an empty Gatorade bottle thrown at his head and called a useless bum, but he’d gotten over the petty insults a couple weeks back. When the hunger outweighed his pride. 

He counted up his change, ten dollars and seventy-five cents. He’d have to find something that could last him a couple days if he wanted to make anymore headway towards New York. He had decided that the big city would be the best place to get lost in. It was as far away as he could get from California without a passport, and with such a big population, Stiles hoped it would be easy enough to reinvent himself. 

He combed the aisles for a while, welcoming the warmth of the store after a rainy fall day outside. He picked up a bag of trail mix, only $2.99 for a large bag. The peanuts looked dry and the raisins had seen better days, but it was cheap and would last him a while. After grabbing a few more food items, and a large bottle of water, he made his way towards the register. 

“You okay, sugar?” A middle aged woman asked, as he placed his items on the counter. Her hair way a garish shade of red, like it had come from a bargain box, and her makeup was worn, smudging slightly beneath her lash line, but she looked at him kindly. 

“Sure” Stiles shrugged. He was tired and downtrodden after the day he’d had, and just wanted to pay and be on his way. 

“That’s nine-fifty.” She said, frowning slightly as Stiles counted out the change from his pocket. He handed it over, already feeling bereft of the little security having at least some cash afforded him. Outside thunder sounded, and soon the light rain that had started a couple hours earlier turned into a torrential downpour. Stiles looked out the adjacent window, feeling the last of his good humor slip away. “Listen” The lady said, handing over his bag of groceries. “I’m just about to lock up, but there’s a couch in the break room.” Stiles’ head shot up, looking at her. “I know it ain’t much, but no one would mind if you wanted to pass the night there out of the rain.”

Stiles felt water prickle behind his eyes. It was such a simple, kind gesture. Something that he hadn’t had directed at him since he left home. He looked back towards the window, he wasn’t sure where else he would stay. The small town didn’t boast much, definitely not a shelter. His only other option would be to try and find a bus shelter or some 24 hours gas station to loiter around in. Looking back at the woman, he felt hope bloom in his chest. She was smiling, waiting patiently. She wasn’t trying to convince him to take the couch, just simply allowing him to make a decision. 

“You-you sure you wouldn’t get in trouble?”

“Oh no, sugar.” She shook her head, “I own the place and my son will be opening in the morning. Ain’t nothing back there worth stealing, you understand, and if you try to come back into the store area the alarm will sound.” Stiles nodded his understanding, “The cops ain’t got much to do around here this time of night, so you wouldn’t get away with anything anyhow.” She looked him over, “Don’t seem right leaving a young thing like you to find shelter on the street on a night like this.”

“Th-Thank you.” Stiles nodded. The woman just smiled, walking to the door and turning over the sign that hung on it to read closed, before locking up. 

“Come on, sugar.” She turned, leading him back towards the door marked employees only. Through the back there was a dimly lit room, with solid concrete floors and unfinished walls. It wasn’t much warmer than outside, but to the side there was a large worn sofa and an old reclining chair. The woman explained that there was a bathroom to the left, no shower, but enough soap, water and paper towels for him to clean up with. Stiles thanked her again, watching as she locked the door to the front of the convenience store, and grabbed her own belongings from a her locker. 

She didn’t demand anything in return before she left, simply leaving him with instructions to be on his way in the morning, and a “sleep well, sugar.” Stiles had smiled at her, wanting to wrap her in a hug for the kindness, but knowing that her matter of fact manner didn’t invite that kind of intimacy, and that he probably smelled after not bathing for several days. 

When he was finally alone, he let a couple of tears slide from behind his eyes, sighing at the feeling of warmth and safety. It would only be for a night, but he hadn’t had anything close to this in so long, he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. Stiles washed quickly in the small bathroom, using the cheap pink hand soap to wash under his arms and scrub the grime from his cheeks and forehead. By the time he made his way to the old sofa he felt refreshed, and he nodded off in no time. 

It was dark still when he woke. He breathed deep, not sure what had woken him. He listened for a moment, thinking maybe he had overslept and the woman’s son was coming into work, but nothing other than the buzz of the nearby vending machine made itself known. Figuring it was nothing, he snuggled further into the lumpy sofa cushions and closed his eyes,  chasing the exhaustion that would relax him back into sleep. As he drifted off he hoped that the few remaining hours he had would be uninterrupted. 

He was just on teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when a vicious tug pulled him back into the waking world. His eyes flared open and his heart pounded as his body was lifted from the couch. A meaty hand clasped over his mouth, stifling his confused screams. “Shhh….” A voice whispered from behind him. As an arm wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his side. Stiles tried to yell again as he struggled to pull away, but the arms around him felt like steel, muscled and strong. 

“Take him and go, Jake.” Stiles managed to turn his head just enough to see the kind woman who had offered him a bed standing by the back door. “I ain’t got all night, and we don’t need no one seeing you take him and calling the five-o.” Stiles’ eyes had to be the size of saucers as he looked at her. The kind older woman he’d seen earlier was gone, and in her place was a stranger with a hard uncaring stare and a bottle of whiskey clinched in her hand. 

“Don’t you worry,” The man, Jake, said from behind him, “We’ll be out of your hair in no time.”  Stiles’ heart was beating so hard against his rib cage that he thought he might pass out, but still he continued to struggle. He kicked and writhed in the man’s arms, but the man just chuckled, dragging him out the back door, and shoving him into the back compartment of an open trailer truck cab. 

So many thoughts raced through his mind as he struggled, but at the forefront was only ‘Run! Escape!’ As soon as the man let him go, Stiles tried to crawl to the opposite side of the cab, reaching for the driver’s side door. The man behind him only laughed as he closed the door behind him. The handle to the the driver’s side of was locked, and try as he might, Stiles was unable to open it or find a lock. Not before the man got his bearings and landed a decisive punch across his chin, knocking Stiles out cold. 

The second time Stiles awoke all he could feel was pain. In his back, in his head and his wrists. His wrists were tied together, elevated in front of him where they were secured to the head of a tiny twin bed that sat behind the driver’s and passenger’s seat in the truck’s cab. His mouth tasted like blood, and he could feel a tightness in his left cheek that indicated it was swollen. Behind him meaty fingers were digging into his shoulders, sliding down gently, in a mocking contrast to the pain that lit his lower half on fire as his body rocked forward with the motion of the other man’s hips. 

Stiles understood immediately what was happening, but he refused to acknowledge it. Some part of his mind stopping him from forming the word. Instead he ignored the pain in his lower body, instead focusing on the strain in his arms, the fibers of the rope digging into his wrists and the burns they were leaving. He didn’t speak and he did not scream. When it was over, the man opened the passenger door again, throwing Stiles’ backpack and him out onto the side of the road somewhere far from town. 

It was still dark, it was still cold, and it was still raining. Stiles though, did not notice any of that. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

The two days after Stiles’ arrival at Xavier’s are filled with video games, more food than he’s eaten in the last month and helping Scott pack for his trip home to Oregon. It’s relaxing, and Stiles is sad to see Scott go that Friday morning, but he’s also thankful to have the room to himself. The fact is, that beside the time Scott has been in class, Stiles hasn’t had any alone time in over a year. 

He sleeps much more than is healthy the first day, he’d been afraid to sleep too deeply with Scott in the room. It was easy to guess that Stiles had been homeless, based on his shabby clothes and lack of possessions. He didn’t want to wake up screaming on top of it. Not that he thought Scott would judge him, he’s pretty sure Scott is the most non-judgmental guy in the universe. He even told Stiles that he could keep Fang over the break, even though it was _his_ dog, and he was the one with the ability to talk to animals. Stiles had been flattered, but insisted he take Fang. Scott told him he would facetime him over break with Fang in return. “We don’t want you to get lonely!” Stiles hadn’t had the heart to tell him he didn’t have a phone or computer to communicate with, and his student tablet still wasn’t ready. 

Stiles eventually manages to force himself to crawl out of bed around 4pm after dozing off and on for most of the day. He takes a quick shower, still in awe of the luxury that was feeling clean all the time. Toweling off and pulling on his least dirty pants and shirt, he makes a mental note to ask where the laundry room is. His backpack only contained two sets of clothes, and they'd all seen better days. By the time he slips on his shoes, he  has just enough time to make it to dinner with the remaining students and staff. 

The meal is set up in a smaller dining room than the usual hall set aside for meals, and Stiles only finds it because someone has thoughtfully left a notice in the foyer he has to pass through on the way. He makes his way down the hall, slipping through the open door as unobtrusively as possible. Taking in the room's dark wood paneling and ornately draped windows, noticing that for  once staff outnumber the students. There’s just one long table set in the middle of the room it looks old and well taken care of like an antique handed down through familial generations, and Professor Xavier is already sitting at the head. The twins, Laura and Derek are seated to either side of him, across from each other, and Laura sticks out her tongue at him when he enters, Stiles is oddly comforted. 

The rest of the table is taken up by Kurt, the blue mutant who had apparated(?) into the kitchen the first day he arrived, a woman named Orono with dark skin and white hair, shaved on one side and flowing down the opposite shoulder. (Apparently she was Scott’s favorite, and could control the weather.) Boyd and the blonde woman who he’d talked with at the museum were also present, one hand clasped in the other’s on the table, while the other shuffled food into their mouths. Two other students were present as well, but Stiles hadn’t met them yet. 

The only empty seat was next to Derek, so Stiles makes his way around the table and plops down carelessly into the seat. At the same time, Derek’s hand seems to slip, and his fork falls heavily into his bowl of pasta. Laura raises a single eyebrow at her brother, giving him an odd look, “You okay there, baby bro? She asks. Derek nods jerkily, but picks up his fork and the barely awkward moment passes. 

“So Stiles,” Professor Xavier smiles, “How have your first couple of days been?”

“Uh…fine” Stiles nods, as Derek reaches over, taking a large pot from the center of the table and scooping pasta into Stiles’ bowl.

“Lie” Boyd smirks, from his place beside Laura.

Kurt frowns, “Are you not well?” he asks, placing a palm to his forehead.

“Uh, no I’m fine.”

“Lie”

“Boyd,” Xavier interrupts, “What have we said about boundaries.”

“Hey, you’re my mentee. If something’s wrong you have to tell me.” Laura says, motioning for him to go ahead. 

“I really am fine…” Stiles looks over to Boyd who raises his eyebrows in disbelief. Everyone else remains silent, but their judgmental expressions are quite loud. “Fine...it’s just, like, do you think, maybe I could...borrow a phone?”

“A ph-”Derek starts, but he stops and his eyes grow large, “holy shit...”

“Wow you got Derek to swear,” Laura smiles, as she sits back in her chair, “best mentee ever.”

Derek wriggles around, extracting a phone from his back pocket, “Excuse me, I was your mentee,” the blonde next to Boyd says, Stiles should really figure out her name.

“Yeah,” Laura agrees, as Stiles takes the phone Derek’s offering. “And you never once got Derek to swear in all that time.” Stiles looks down at the phone in his hands, and freezes. “What a waste” Laura ducks as the blonde throws a bread roll at her. 

“Hey,” Derek says softly, “You okay? Do you know the number?”

“Yeah” Stiles nods, heart breaking. He can’t call. What if they trace it? What if his dad doesn’t want to see him? What if his dad has been taken? He’s heard about family members of mutants being taken, anyone who might have latent mutant genes. 

Suddenly Stiles is so unsure of himself. He doesn't even know where the idea to ask for a phone came from. The idea hadn't even fully formed in his mind before the words were out of his mouth. He’s scared. No, he’s fucking petrified. Who does he think he is, just calling up the father he abandoned? Like he could just step back into his life, like he could be so easily forgiven...Before he knows what’s happening, Laura is at his side, taking hold of his arm and leading him gently from the room. Derek is with them he thinks, no doubt wanting to get his phone back, but Stiles can’t really think clearly enough to offer it. 

As they walk Stiles sees unwelcome images of a fire. People screaming and the tear stained face of Derek through Laura’s eyes. 

“Hey...hey” Laura says, and apparently they’re on the stairs now, sitting on the soft dark wood that leads up to the west wing dorms. Laura has an arm around him, and Derek is leaning against the wall a couple feet away, seeming distressed, but wanting to keep his distance. Stiles can’t really blame him. He’s such a mess. Laura is running an hand up and down his arm and rocking him softly. It’s only then that he realizes there are tears running down his cheeks. Oh great, just what he needs, to look more like a poor homeless crazy person. “It’s okay,” Laura continues to comfort, “Whatever it is, it will be okay. We will make it okay.” 

“I don’t...I can’t call him, what if he’s mad at me?” Stiles finally says, “What if they took him?”

“Who are we talking about, Bambi?” Stiles rolls his eyes at the nickname, suppressing a smile at the feeling of belonging.

“My...dad” he breathes. “I ran because Sentinel Services was coming for me, but I never reached out to him...I never said goodbye or I’m sorry...and I was all he had…”The tears come again, and Laura embraces him tighter. He hears Derek let up a hurt whine, and suddenly he’s there too, squatting down in front of them to offer support, but not touching. Stiles is ashamed of how relieved he is to not be touched by another person. 

“He’ll understand” Laura says, “he loves you.” Stiles doesn’t know how Laura can just assume that, but he knows it’s true. Knows that if there was ever a man who loved his son, it’s his dad.  But he’s still so…

“I’m scared” he whispers.

“That’s good,” Derek says, sympathetic tears welling in his eyes, “means you care.” 

Eventually they separate, clear their throats, and all act like it never happened. They are tough X-Men type mutants, well the twins are, Stiles is tough in his own way he supposes. Derek explains that his phone is encrypted because of being a tough X-Men type mutant, and that Stiles should keep it, he can always get another one. It’s generous, too generous, but when Stiles starts to decline Laura fixes him with a steely look that brooks no arguments. 

It’s nearly midnight before Stiles gets up the nerve to make the call. He’s sitting alone in his dorm room, Laura having left a few hours earlier declaring tomorrow shopping day. He thinks she’s overdoing it with the take care of Stiles crusade, but there’s a part of him buried not so deep down that appreciates it. The phone rings three times, and Stiles begins to think he’ll have to try back later, when a hoarse voice picks up. “H-hello?” the tired voice answers. Stiles’ heart stops. “Parish is that you? Do you need me to come back in?”

“D-dad?” Stiles whispers, but it’s enough, he can hear his father shoot up in bed.

“Stiles?!” 

“Hey, daddio.”

“Oh my god, oh thank you, oh god…”his father’s voice cracks, ‘I’ve been so worried, I thought-I thought they got you.”

“I’m sorry dad, I’m so sorry”

“No, no none of that. Where are you? Are you okay? I’ll come get you.” The concern makes Stiles smile, it’s just so good to hear his voice, to know he’s alive and okay. 

“You-you can’t, dad” Stiles sighs, “They would just try to take me again if I came home.”

“Then we’ll go, we’ll find somewhere safe.” He has his sheriff voice on, ready to take charge. 

“I-I’m safe...now” Stiles sighs, accepting for perhaps the first time, that it might actually be true. 

“Where are you?” His dad asks again, he can feel his dad physically straining towards him, all the way across the country. He feels it too, the overwhelming need to see each other, to hold on and not let go again. 

“New York.” Stiles says before he can talk himself out of it. “I’m at a school.”

“A school?”

“It’s for mu-people like me.”

“I can be there tomorrow.”

“Dad you can’t-”

“Don’t.” The sheriff interrupts, “Don’t you say that. I’ve lived over a year not knowing if you were dead of alive, if you were safe...Don’t you dare ask me to stay away.” Stiles sniffs, as tears flood his eyes again, god he’s such a damn mess. “Now, what’s the address?”

The sheriff arrives late the next day, in fact it’s almost midnight by the time the rental car comes to a stop near the front door of the school. Laura has been sitting with Stiles on the front stoop for the last hour, and smiles when the young mutant sprints to the car. His dad steps out, wrapping his son up in his big arms, and lifting him slightly off his feet, despite the fact that Stiles is just as tall as him now.

They stand like that for a long time, just embracing and pretending that they’re not crying. Neither can seem to let go of the other, both having assumed until yesterday that they would probably never see each other again. It’s The sheriff that finally takes a step back, his hands still resting on his son’s shoulders. “Well,” he says, “first things’ first.” The sheriff cuffs him lightly on the back of the head. “Ah come on,dad…” Stiles chuckles. “Don’t you ever leave me alone like that again.” his dad says seriously, “we are Stilinskis, we deal with things together.” 

“Your name is Stiles  _ Stilinski _ ? Oh my god, my year has just been made.” Laura laughs, and like that the moment is broken.

 

After a long discussion with Xavier, through which the Sheriff practically refuses to let go of Stiles’ hand, and an awkward phone call with the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department, it’s decided that Stiles’ dad will give up his position at home and become a permanent staff member at the school. His law enforcement background and support of mutants making him an excellent fit for some vacant position that Stiles is pretty sure Xavier just made up. 

Nevertheless, his dad, or Noah, as he insists both staff and students call him, settles in quickly. They give him his own suite of rooms, containing a living room, small kitchenette and two bedrooms. One for him and one for Stiles, which Stiles immediately moves into. Not that he doesn’t appreciate Scott, but privacy is a commodity he no longer takes for granted. Neither is being near his father. It’s the greatest gift he’s ever received, what Xavier is doing for his little family, and he understands why the man inspires such loyalty. 

By the time winter break is over and the moving company has delivered the last of the boxes from the Noah and Stiles’ old house, Stiles is starting to feel at home. They’ve decorated their small apartment with essentials and a couple sentimental items, like his mom’s favorite reading chair and the Stilinski family menorah that made it through the Holocaust. It's familiar and yet new and different. It's everything it needs to be, and by the time the students return from the holiday break, his dad has firmly taken on the role of teacher.

Professor Stilinski, “please call me Noah”, is training students in self defense with a focus on deescalation and how to recognize potentially dangerous situations. He also helps Professor McCoy by offering up some new ideas for school security. His dad’s eyes still go wide from time to time when he meets a new mutant whose abilities are not easily hidden. (Stiles thought his dad was going to have a heart attack right there and then the first time Kurt appeared in a cloud of sapphire smoke.) But overall he’s taken to everything swimmingly, and the students and staff all seem to love him. Some a little too much. If he has to listen to Laura say one more inappropriate thing about his dad’s “tight backside”, he may hurl. 

Things move fast around the mansion though, Scott and Fang come back and the three of them become inseparable pretty quickly. Stiles was never great at making friends, even before his mutation manifested, but with Scott it’s easy. Between their friendship and having his dad at Xavier’s, he’s more relaxed that he’s allowed himself to be in years. Maybe that’s why the dreams come back, more vivid and intense than ever. 

Stiles is caught in another nightmare, this one of clutching hands and stinging slaps, cold snow and aching bones. He’s on the side of a road, frigid snow soaking through his torn clothes, to weak to stand. Then he’s in a shelter, up against a tile wall with an arm at his throat, or shivering in an alleyway hungry and alone. The memories blur in his dreams, from  one scene to another, but they’re all horrible, they all make him toss and turn and fight to the surface to wake himself. He breathes a sigh of relief when he does manage to wake. Glad that he doesn’t seem to have been too loud. He’s woken his father a couple times before, but he can still hear his dad’s soft snores from the next room. 

He decides to get up, it’s only 4am, but he’s not likely to get any more sleep. He sits up, shifting out of the bed and stretching out the kinks in his back, before pulling on a hoodie Laura had bought him and leaving the room. He considers watching TV, but he doesn’t want to wake his father, so instead he makes his way to the door and steps out into the hallway. 

The school is quiet at this time of night, the lamp lights set to half their usual vibrancy, and sounds of the snow falling against the windows audible without students running back and forward. He makes his way quietly down the corridor, not wanting to wake any other staff that live on this side of the manor. Professor Monroe lives across from them, with Laura and Derek sharing rooms down the hall, and Kira, the fuchsia haired woman from the museum, near the landing. Avoiding the creaking wood floor planks of the old house is a subtle art that Stiles has learned over the past few weeks, and he uses that knowledge now to make his way silently to the stairs and down to the main living area of the school.  In the rec room a fellow insomniac is flicking through TV channels by blinking his eyes, but Stiles doesn’t notice anyone else on his way to the kitchen. 

He turns on a small light under the mounted cabinets as he enters, not wanting to blind himself with those overhead, before grabbing a glass and filling it with water. He’s leaning against the counter, working on his second glass when the sliding glass door to the back yard opens and Derek steps in. He doesn’t notice him at first, turning quietly to shut the door, but stills as he turns around and catches sight of him.

“And where are you sneaking in from?” Stiles grins, taking in Derek’s appearance. He’s wearing pants, obviously hastily slipped on, the top button of his fly still undone. His shirt, shoes and jacket are hanging from his left hand and his chest is on full display. Stiles’ heart sinks a little. 

“Um…” Derek begins, obviously unprepared to explain himself to a student whose caught him sneaking in after a booty call. “What are you doing up?” He finally answers, choosing to ignore Stiles’ question entirely. 

“Oh you know” Stiles shrugs, “couldn’t sleep.”

“Are you okay?” Derek looks concerned, which isn’t unusual. Stiles has pegged him as something of a worrywart over the past few weeks. 

“Yeah” Stiles nods, but Derek tilts his head looking him as if he can see right through him. “Just..” he motions towards his head, “dreams…” Derek seems to understand, his face turns solemn and he nods. 

Stiles sips his water, trying his best not to let his eyes roam along the outline of Derek’s well built chest as he sets his belongings down on a chair and slips his shirt over his head. Stiles breathes a quiet sigh of relief once it’s covered, and Derek shoots him a confused look that Stiles is choosing to ignore. 

“You should check out the basement.” Derek says, and Stiles tries to decide if that’s a euphemism for something. 

“The basement?”

“Come on” Derek shrugs, walking out of the kitchen, obviously expecting Stiles to follow. He’s hesitant. He’s had a lot of people try to lead him places over the past few months, and even though he trusts Derek, part of him still hesitates. Nevertheless, he downs the rest of his water and follows anyway. He remembers Derek lending him his phone over winter break, and the way he made sure he was okay after he started to have a panic attack over calling his father. He’s willing to bet whatever Derek wants to show him is not going to harm him. 

They walk to the end of the hall, and Derek presses a button on an elegant looking wooden wall. A moment later a door opens, an elevator that Stiles has only seen in use a hand full of times, mostly for Xavier himself. He follows Derek in, noticing that the car is a lot more modern that the timeless traditional look the rest of the school has. The walls are sleek and white, and the button panel has what looks like some pretty steep security measures. Stiles remembers reading about that particular retinal and voice verification lock at the Beacon County library.  There are 6 floors marked. 1-4 are the school and dorm floors, the 5th is for the basement, the 6th and bottom button is simply marked as X. Knowing what he does about the staff of Xavier’s and their extracurricular activities, it doesn’t take Stiles’ genius IQ to figure out what all the security is protecting. His new school has its very own Batcave. 

They exit out onto the fifth floor, and at first Stiles is at a loss as to why Derek would bring him there. The walls are smooth gray concrete, not at all impressive, and to the left boxes and old furniture line the space. He’s pretty sure he can see a vintage Galaga game cabinet in the back which he’d like to check out, but other than that, there’s not much to see.

“This way” Derek says, walking off towards the right, around a corner and into a corridor that must run under the grounds themselves it’s so long. They walk for almost a full minute, before coming to a wooden door with a clear glass porthole. “Most people don’t come this way, but it’s late and cold out.” Derek says, looking Stiles over and stopping at his bare feet that are, he admits, a little chilly against the concrete floor. 

“And here is….?” Stiles asks, as Derek pushes through the door. 

Inside is different. The space is lit with dim but comfortable light, and his feet land on a warm red oriental carpet that lays over dark wood floors. Beside him an ornate spiral staircase leads up to the main floor, and surrounding him are dusty old shelves holding books. Floor to ceiling books upon books, discarded and unused and just waiting for someone to appreciate them. 

“What…?” Stiles says in awe.

“It’s the library, not too many people use it anymore, but I thought…”Derek shrugs, “If you have trouble sleeping….” he looks up into Stiles’ eyes, “It could be a place for you to come.” 

“Tha-” His voice breaks, “Thank you.” he manages, clearing his throat. “Thank you.” 

Stiles is in so much trouble.


	6. Chapter 6

    Even with classes in full swing, and Stiles’ advanced course load he finds himself bored a lot. His dad is teaching, Scott needs to study and Laura can only entertain him so much between the classes and the fact that she “has a social life, you know?” (Stiles tries hard not to focus on how that applies to Derek and his late night “social” calls as well. He’s seen him sneaking in more than a few times.) So, Stiles finds himself in the school’s sorely disorganized library a lot. 

    Luckily there is one person who always seems to have time for him. Fang, despite being Scott’s dog, tends to follow Stiles around the school any time Scott doesn’t have time to play with him. It’s a good system, keeping the pup entertained when his owner is busy and ensuring Stiles doesn’t feel too lonely. Not that he minds the solitude, it’s still a luxury. 

    The library is a mess. Apparently the last librarian left in a hurry a couple years ago, joining up with the Brotherhood after her husband was murdered by Sentinel Services. Stiles can’t imagine the pain of losing someone like that, but he can’t help but think that joining one group of psychotic extremists to fight another equally psychotic organization, is not the best plan ever. Also, it’s apparent her filing system was shit even before her departure. 

    So Stiles takes to organizing it. No one seems to mind his overhauling the whole system, and everyone for the most part leaves him to his work as long as his grades don’t suffer. He starts with the nonfiction section, biographies specifically. They’re easy to sort and categorize, and by the end he knows way too much about Napoleon Bonaparte and has a new fascination with Patti Smith. 

    His time in the library is peaceful and quiet. Something that Stiles would never have been okay with before his time living on the overcrowded streets of New York. He was always an energetic and extroverted kid growing up. Could talk a mile a minute, his father would say. But something about never having a place to call his own, to catch a moment to himself in private for over a year, diluted that childish enthusiasm. Now the quiet is welcome and when it’s not, and memories become too vivid and too much, Fang is there. 

    The pup gives Stiles something to focus on outside of himself and his issues. He rests his sweet wrinkly head on Stiles’ knee as he sorts books and uses his powers to absorb knowledge. He paws at the frayed ends of Stiles’ shoes strings and plays hide and seek with him between the ornate wooden shelves. Stiles even finds a couple of discarded throw pillows that he sets up in one of the little used corners of the library for Fang to nap on. The relationship is simple, and the only glimpses that Stiles gets of Fang’s life when he pets him is of simple sweet things like playing fetch with Scott or cuddling with Stiles himself. Of course Stiles’ control is getting stronger every day and the only time he sees those things are when he’s exhausted from staying up too late in the library. It’s generally when he knows it’s time for them both to get to bed. 

    Laura, in the early part of their mentor/mentee relationship had set Stiles up with regular appointments to see the school’s psychologist, which surprisingly was Dr. Xavier himself. He advocated that Stiles take it slow, that taking breaks from people and situations was healthy. That he would build up a tolerance. He thinks Fang helps with that. He’s like a gateway drug back into dealing with people. Stiles may not ever be the overzealous kid he once was again, but he would find his way to at least being comfortable and calm in his own skin. 

    It is surprising how quiet the library is though, especially on days when Fang isn’t there. He expected people to tread lightly in the library, cognizant of other people studying or what have you, but The library at Xavier’s always seems to be empty. He assumes it’s a result of the horrible filing system which made it almost impossible to find what you were looking for. Or the fact that every student was given a tablet and the ability to check out many books online. Still, there are tables and small alcoves that make it perfect for studying. Stiles had done a thorough cleaning of all the spaces when he started coming regularly. The basement area wasn’t the only level that needed a dusting and some TLC. Still, there aren’t a lot of people that take advantage of it’s gorgeous Victorian architecture for studying and that’a a real shame. 

    There are a few regulars however, a girl with blonde hair constantly scanning through the library’s medical books, well organized only because of Dr. McCoy’s frequent use. One young boy who checks out travel books with large beautiful pictures, Stiles thinks he has some kind of visual projection powers. Kurt stops by from time to time, reaching into the basement’s more restricted area and pulling out obscure religious tomes. Derek is also listed among the library’s regulars, though Stiles hasn’t yet been able to figure out what subject he favors. He just seems to grab books at random and settle in near the circulation desk to read.    

    Stiles is mostly there in the evenings, after he’s attended classes and finished up any homework required of him. Though most of the professors don’t really feel the need to heap it on. Not with the knowledge of his SAT scores and and his powers in consideration. Though Laura likes to put him through his paces, he’s pretty sure he could take apart the engine of her Camaro and put it back together in under twenty minutes at this point. (He never would though, he doesn’t have a death wish.) 

    Spending evenings in  the library means he gets to see students and faculty at their most relaxed. Derek in particular comes around after dinner, sporting cozy looking sweaters and glasses, drinking coffee in a giant mug that reads “I have the vocabulary of a well educated sailor”, an ironic design, no doubt a present from his sister. His presence does nothing to help Stiles with his inappropriate and doomed crush, especially when he comes in one night sporting a burgundy sweater with thumb-holes and pours over Stardust by Neil Gaiman (Stiles almost swoons), but it’s nice just the same. 

    The library is an oasis, subdued and predictable.  Stiles can be there without feeling any pressure to do anything, whether it’s to finish work or deal with his own emotions that are still going haywire despite his sessions with the Professor. It’s not overly exciting, this new routine, and Stiles is okay with that. He’s had more than his fair share of excitement. What it is though, is a life, or at least it’s starting to resemble one. With friends and school, his dad and a place to lay his head. It’s steady and he’s almost managed to convince himself he’ll get to keep it. 

\-------

    Stiles doesn’t know if he’s surprised or not that Xavier’s, just like any other high school, becomes an utter mess around Valentine’s Day. The halls are covered in strings of paper hearts, people are delivering single wilted roses from secret admirers to students in class, and Stiles just wants to bury his head under his pillow until it’s all over. 

    It’s not just because his crush is a teacher (Derek teaches math, MATH, and not just math, but super complicated math that Stiles had to scan more than once to fully comprehend) and therefore unattainable. No, it’s not just that. It’s that even if he had a crush on someone in remotely the same league, he’d have no interest in pursuing it. 

    Stiles has privacy. He has a solo room. An envious luxury for any Xavier’s student. One would think that this privacy would entice him to entertain certain amorous thoughts from time to time. Maybe even, dare he say it, explore those thoughts with his right hand and the use of an overactive and educated imagination. Those who would think that though, obviously have not lived Stiles life. Not been tarnished by strangers and left afraid of his own body and distrustful of it’s reactions. 

    He feels like a freak. A freak among freaks. He sees Scott make goo goo eyes at Allison, a mutant girl in their shared English Lit class who produces spikes from her skin and aims them with deadly accuracy. He watches Erica and Boyd retire to their room down the hall at the end of the night. He’s seen Derek returning from one late night tryst after another. He though, can’t even stand the thought of touching himself. Alone. In his room. 

    He’s made some progress in the past couple of months. He’s learning to trust again. His father being there helps. Helps a lot actually. Laura being Laura, not handling him with kid gloves and teasing him relentlessly helps. Scott dragging him back to his dorm to play video games and cuddle with Fang helps. He trusts all of them. Even Xavier, who he’s come to rely on to speak directly with him during his therapy sessions. He believes they all care about him, that they wouldn’t intentionally hurt him. He still can barely stand to touch them though. 

    He can generally control his secondary ability, the whole reading people’s past like they’re books in the library thing. When he’s caught by surprise or his emotions are running high though, he can slip. Like he did the night on the stairs with Laura. He remembers glimpses of fire and Derek with tears running down his face, and it feels like a betrayal. That memory he saw wasn’t his to take. Laura doesn’t even know he saw it. He doesn’t want to take from his friends, he especially doesn’t want to take private thoughts or past traumas. 

    Scott though, bless his heart, hasn’t really caught on to Stiles’ issues with touch, or proximity, or his total and complete aversion to romance. “What about her?” he asks, pointing to a classmate across the hall from them at lunch. “She seems nice, you could ask her.”There’s a Valentine’s dance coming up, and Scott is adamant that they both have dates. 

    Stiles had hoped he’d left torturous rights of passage like this back in public school, but Laura said something about the staff wanting the students to have as normal a high school experience as possible. Stiles had tried pointing out that all school dances did was heighten feelings of social inadequacy and cost a fortune in crate paper and balloons. Laura had just smirked and asked what color cumberbund he wanted her to buy him. She was the worst. 

“Uh” Stiles answers digging into the pink frosted cupcake he’d grabbed from the kitchen. “You do remember that I’m gay, right?”

“Oh yeah!” Scott smiles, looking around the room and pointing to another student, “What about him?” Stiles rolls his eyes but can’t help but smile. Scott is by far the most open and enthusiastically loving person he’s ever met. It’s almost like he takes on the innocent and playful traits of the animals he spends all day talking to. 

“I appreciate the thought bud, but like I said, I’m really not interested.”

“But you can’t  _ not _ go” Scott pleads, “I can’t go without you, Allison just barely accepted my invitation, I need you there! What if I mess up?”

“First of all, dude, Allison said yes because you two have been mooning over each other since the beginning of the semester, and secondly, I’m not going to put some innocent guy through the pain of going to a dance with me just so you can have a wingman.” 

“What are you talking about?” Scott looks outraged, motioning towards the aforementioned date option. “that guy…”

“Warren” Stiles supplies.

“Warren…”

“Who is dating Candace.”

“Okay, okay.” Scott concedes, “but still, any guy would be lucky to go to the dance with you.”

“Scott” Stiles says laying a tentative hand on his friend’s shoulder, making sure he’s got at least two layers of clothing between them, “I appreciate the thought, but I truly have absolutely no desire to go to this thing. Please don’t make me.” Scott seems abashed at that, realising that he was trying to pressure his friend into something he didn’t want.

“Fine,” he agrees, “But you’ll still come to the mall with me tomorrow to pick out some clothes, right?”

“Of course: Stiles nods, though inside he’s looking forward to the outing just about as much as he would the dance. The mall is crowded, too many people and too little personal space, but for Scott…

    A bell rings signalling the end of lunch and Stiles says goodbye to his friend to head off towards his afternoon mechanics class with Laura. The garage is full by the time he gets there, and he leans up against a tool bench to the side, near enough to see Laura and hear the lesson, but far enough away to avoid touching anyone or encouraging a lot of conversation. 

“Okay my little grease monkeys” Laura starts, ignoring the roll of Stiles’ eyes. “Today we’re going to learn about the fascinating world of carburetors.” 

    Laura is actually a great teacher, not that he would ever tell her that. She’s enthusiastic, patient and knowledgeable. Moreover, she knows that what she’s teaching is valuable. Mutants, especially those with more noticeable features, like Kurt’s blue skin or Kira’s magenta hair and green eyes, don’t always have an easy time securing a job after their schooling is complete. Some might stay on and teach like Kurt and Kira, but others go off into the world to find their own space. Having a useful skill like auto mechanics to fall back on was valuable. Not everyone liked mutants, but most everyone drove a car and needed it maintained.

    Stiles listens passively through the lesson. He’s already scanned about every book on cars and auto maintenance in the library, and though some were pretty out of date, they all had sections on carburetors.  Laura tries to trip him up half way through the class, asking him a question when he’s obviously not listening, but he answers correctly just the same, and he can tell she’s proud and not annoyed by him. Several kids take turns, getting hands on with the little piece of metal, and she quizzes them on how it mixes air and gas, and even if they get the answers wrong, she still smiles and just explains the proper answer. The students all trust her and her lesson is a welcome reprieve from the typical classroom environment. 

When it’s over, Laura pulls him aside, letting the other students filter out before she turns to him with a serious look and says, “What’s the matter pup?”

“Pup?” Stiles gives her a dubious look.

“Oh shut up,” she smirks, “tell auntie Laura all about it.” 

“First of all, ew.” Stiles says, “second of all, nothing is the matter.”

“Stiles, puppy...”

“Oh my god stop.”

“I know something is bothering you.” she continues, giving him a rare serious look. 

“It’s nothing” He tries again, but Laura just raises an unimpressed eyebrow, “Well it should be nothing.” he sighs, “I promised Scott I’d go to the mall with him.”

“And….this seems like a perfectly normal teenage boy thing to do.”  Stiles agreed, this was a very normal teenage activity. Back home he wouldn’t have thought twice about going to the mall, even after his powers manifested. It was different now though, and it had nothing to do with his powers. 

“Maybe you’ve noticed, that I haven’t exactly been in a hurry to leave the manor since I arrived.” Laura didn’t make any indication whether he had or not, but he didn’t doubt her observational skills, “People...make me nervous.”

“You’re around people all day here” she said gently. 

“Yeah, people I can anticipate the moves of, people who you and the other professors have deemed trustworthy enough to be here.”

“But people at the mall are different” she nodded. “I get that pup…”

“Oh please tell me this new nickname isn’t going to stick.” 

“...but at some point you have to try again. I know some bad things happened to you, and you don’t have to tell me about them.” she said, looking him over, “but you’re not alone anymore. In fact, when is this mall trip of yours?”

“Tomorrow morning I think.”

“Perfect, I will graciously volunteer to be the chaperone on this little outing.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Laura.” 

“Oh I’m going for purely selfish reasons.” She winked, “I need some new boots, and my shut-in brother is running out of shirts that aren’t hanging on by a thread.”

“Yeah, what is with his night-time excursions?” Stiles says before he can stop himself, he’s run into Derek a few times since the night the older man showed him to the library. He always looks disheveled, half dressed and often times his clothes are torn in multiple places. It must be some hook up he’s having. 

“Oh you’ve noticed that have you?” Laura smirks, “the guy’s a weirdo, likes to run at night.”

“Run?” It’s obvious from his tone that he’s not buying what she’s selling. 

“He’s had a lot of excess energy to burn off lately.” she contends. 

“Oh, I bet he has…” Stiles laughs even though his chest feels a little tight.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Stilinski. My brother is way too emotionally repressed for what you’re suggesting.” 

“From what I hear, there doesn’t always have to be emotional investment.”

“You’re gross.” Laura rolls her eyes, putting an arm around his shoulders and dragging him back into the school. 

\------

    It doesn’t take long into the shopping trip for Scott to be dragged away by Alison to coordinate their outfits. Stiles would be more annoyed if Laura and Derek didn’t in fact turn up to chaperone the mall trip, but they did, so he at least has people to fall back on instead of having to nervously wander the crowded mall by himself. 

    Stiles has been here once before, on Laura’s take care of this poor homeless child by buying him a new wardrobe™ trip, soon after he’d arrived at Xavier’s. It’s your typical small town mall, two floors, a food court in the center and a couple hallways leading off to either side with big department stores stationed at the end. 

    This trip, much like the last one, has been mostly taken up by Stiles and Derek following Laura into stores and her shoving things into their arms. It’s not as bad as it sounds though, he gets to tease his mentor when she nearly falls in a pair of ice pick heeled boots and Derek and him share a few words and a lot of shoulder shrugs and rolled eyes, all of which seem to comment on how ridiculous Laura is. It’s pleasant, something the completely surprises Stiles. Being out in the open since the day the Sentinels came for him has always been panic inducing, but somehow he’s not feeling that way now. 

    It’s about an hour into the shopping trip when he notices the non-verbal communication between Laura and Derek. There’s a lot of it.  He’s always noticed that they seem to be in sync, of course. Part of being twins he assumed. Now though, that he’s surrounded by both of them while away from school for so long, he can tell it’s more than that. It’s a twitch of an eyebrow that sends them down an adjacent hallway, the a jut of jaw that says look after Stiles, a shoulder jerk that directs one or the other to get between an approaching stranger and Stiles. That’s the other thing, a lot of the communication seems to play off Stiles and his emotions as well. 

    He startles when they turn a corner, almost bumping into a large older man who reminds him a little too much of an incident he’d rather not recall, and suddenly Laura and Derek are on either side of him. Flanking him, and walking subtly between him and any passerbys. At one point, the mall starts getting noticeably more crowded, and Stiles starts feeling nervous, without a word the siblings guide him into an uncrowded bookstore. Around noon his stomach starts to pinch in that way that means it will be growling soon, and within moments Derek is taking the book Stiles is scanning from his hands and motioning for Stiles to follow him and Laura to the food court. It’s all strange. More than in sync and more than just reading Stiles’ subtle queues. He starts to theorize that it’s a result of their abilities about the time they sit down with their Sbarro pizza. 

    The first thing that comes to mind is that they both have some sort of empathetic abilities, but with Boyd in the house, it seems unlikely that three professors with the same powers would have all found their way to Xavier’s. Powers don’t overlap often. Stiles also considers mind reading, which causes Stiles to flush and dred to flow through him. Both siblings look at him curiously and a little worried, but there’s nothing to give away that Derek knows of his unfortunate and inappropriate crush, or the trauma that still haunts him. So he calms shortly, and watches as the tension in Laura and Derek’s shoulders seems to ease. So probably not Mind reading then. 

“You two share the same mutation, don’t you?” Stiles asks, mindful not to be too loud in public, but realizing for the first time that it must be the case. Laura and Derek each raise a heavy eyebrow but don’t respond. Stiles takes it as a yes. 

    They eat their pizza in relative silence, Laura eventually steering the conversation away from mutations and toward the upcoming school dance. “So who are you going with, pup?” Laura asks. Stiles just rolls his eyes, “Oh come on, it’s a right of passage!”

“I am not going to the dance.” 

“Oh come one, give me one good reason why not.”

“Take your pick,” Stiles gritted his teeth, “deep psychological trauma, a mutant ability that keeps fluctuating, the distinct lack of available gay guys? All are valid.”

“What do you mean your ability keeps fluctuating?” Derek asks, concerned. 

“It’s nothing” Stiles shrugs. He can tell Derek is about to argue, but suddenly a chair slides up to their table and a man Stiles doesn’t recognize sits down.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

The man who abruptly joined their table looks pleased with himself. Which is odd, because the moment they register his presence, Laura and Derek’s hackles shoot up. Unconsciously they seem to copy each others’ postures, like mirror images, their shoulders rise, their hands form fists and their eyes flash, a golden light illuminating their corneas. Stiles vaguely remembers Laura doing that once before, on his first day at Xavier's, but needless to say it's not normal, and a dead giveaway that they're in posession of the X-Gene. Something that they probably wouldn't do in a public area if they were at all pleased to see the man. 

“Well, well, well” the man smirks, “imagine running into you two, what are the chances?” The man oozes a sort of smarmy charm. He’s older than both Derek and Laura, fine lines wrinkling at the corners of his eyes and strands of grey peppering his long brown hair, which he’s slicked back into a small pompadour. His blue eyes hide mirth, seeming to take joy in the hostile reaction he’s getting from the twins. 

“What do you want, Peter?” Laura growls, her words rumbling deep in her chest.

“Can’t I come say hi to my favorite niece and nephew without wanting something?” He asks, hand laying against his chest in mock offense.

“Not since you left your family to join that fanatic.” 

“Fanatic is a strong word for someone who only wants to lead our kind into the light.” the man, Peter apparently, says, before his eyes wander to Stiles himself. “And who might this tasty morsel be?” He leers.

“Wow” Stiles chuffs, “Could you sound any more like a skeezy cartoon villain?” Derek’s arm calmly places itself over Stiles’ chest and pushes, sliding him and his chair further back from the table, the legs scraping across the linoleum floor. 

“What. Do. You. Want?” Laura asks, turning Peter’s attention away from Stiles once more. 

“Simply to deliver a message to your fearless leader.” Peter rolls his eyes at the protective display. 

“Whatever Magneto wants, he can tell the Professor himself. I believe he knows the number.” 

‘Ah’ Stiles thinks, now it begins to make sense. Peter is a member of the brotherhood, a follower of Magneto. The biggest baddest mutant this side of...well anywhere, he guesses. Stiles has gleamed a lot about Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters as he’s organized the library, including its founding and the school's first students. Which included Erik Lehnsherr, aka Magneto, as a sort of co-founder. Professor Xavier and he were close, before Erik’s beliefs began to get in the way. The more they fought, and the longer equality took, the more radical Erik got, until eventually their views opposed so much that they were enemies. It’s a very Dumbledore vs. Grindelwald situation. Apparently something similar had happened between the twins and their uncle. 

“Surely you could do me the simple favor of passing along a message, for old times sake.”

“Go to hell” Laura seethes, standing up from the table, and motioning for Stiles to do the same. Not that he had much choice, with Derek practically grabbing him and shoving him behind his back. 

“You know, darling niece…”

“Don’t call me that.” Laura warns, “We haven’t been family in a long time.”

“So your brother saw to.” Derek rears back as if he’s been slapped, his back connecting with Stiles’ chest. Stiles, instinctively reaches out, wrapping an arm around the older man’s waist, trying to offer what level of support he can. 

“Don’t you dare put this all on Derek.” Laura growls, her eyes glowing brighter than before. 

“And who should we blame?” He smiles, but it’s with the gross twisted expression of someone who takes joy in causing pain. 

“We’re done here.” Stiles says, stepping back from Derek and circling around him to face Peter. “We’re gathering an audience” he motions to the people around them who have stopped eating their meals to watch the woman with the glowing eyes. “I don’t know what you want, but these two are obviously not going to give it to you. So I suggest we get going before someone calls in a report about violent mutants in the goddamned mall food court.” 

“Well.” Peter nods, standing and up and dusting imaginary debris from his too tight sweater, “I suppose your little pet is right. Don’t want the SS breaking up our little  tête-à-tête . However, I do want to pass along an invitation.”

“Invitation?” Laura  

“Yes, I need you and your brother to meet me at 10pm sharp tomorrow, not a minute after.”

“Well that doesn’t sound ominous.” Stiles snarks, receiving a chuff of a laugh from Derek. 

“Yeah... I think it is about time for you to crawl back into your hole.” Laura quips, getting her eyes back under control. “I’ll tell Aunt Rahne you say hi, by the way.” For a moment an emotion Stiles would almost call regret flickers across the older man’s face, but it disappears almost before he can register it. 

“Well, I can see we’re getting to the vindictive part of the conversation.” He sighs, sliding a plain white envelope across the table to the twins, “The details are in there,” He says, “Pleased to meet you Stiles, Laura and Derek, I will see you tomorrow.”

Peter leaves just as quickly as he came, leaving the the nondescript envelope behind. Stiles can tell the twins are shaken though. No doubt they hadn’t been expecting to see a long lost family member at the local mall. 

Laura picks up her purse from the chair she’d been sitting in before, sliding it over her shoulder and sticking the envelope inside. 

“Round up the kids,” She says, “we’re going home.” 

So they do, Laura, Stiles and Derek round up the other students at the mall, and head back to the bus, leaving without hesitation. The students all notice the tension in their chaperone’s faces, but no one asks why their excursion was cut short. Most seem to have their purchases in hand anyway. It’s a quick drive, and before too long they’re pulling up to the school, and the twins let out a sigh of relief. 

Derek and Laura head straight to the professor’s office, leaving Stiles at a loss as to what to do. He’s not an adult, technically, though he’s eighteen and graduation is all but a technicality. He’s not staff and he’s not family, so really there's no place for him in whatever conversation will result from today's encounter. So he lets Scott drag him away to show him his new outfit for the dance and to moon over Alisson. He listens with the portion of his mind not focused on what could have possibly been in that envelope. 

\--

It's the next day before Stiles sees either of the Hale twins again. He’s in the library, just stacking a pile of returned books, about to put them on the old school rolling cart he’d found sitting sadly neglected in the back, when Professor Xavier and Derek walk in. “Hey guys, what’s up?” Stiles asks, hefting a large stack onto the cart. Xavier smiles indulgently, knowing Stiles’ unease with formality, Derek rolls his eyes. 

“Stiles,” Xavier nods, “I’ve heard you had improved things in here, but I must confess, I did not know the extent of your work.” Stiles blushes, busying himself with scanning a book. “The place looks better than it did when I was a boy.” The Professor nods. 

“Well, it just needed someone to care about it” Stiles shrugs looking around happily at the space. The last of the books had been organized a month ago, the broken desks and chairs had been repaired (with the help of his dad) or taken out to the garbage (with the help of Laura and Kurt). The space was open but cozy. Warm reading lights and stained glass lamps lined the first floor and a new set of leather chairs sat near an old disused fireplace Stiles had unearthed from behind a couple of unused whiteboards. 

“Well you did that” Xavier intones with approval. Stiles’ blush must deepen, because his cheeks heat, but he just nods, continuing with his work. “Stiles, we’ve actually come to talk to you about something.” 

“Oh?” Stiles says, looking up at both men, “Did you need something?” 

“Not exactly” The Professor continues, “Why don’t you come and sit down with us?” he suggests. Stiles wipes his nervous palms on his jeans, but nods and follows them over to the chairs by the fireplace. 

“What’s this all about?” Stiles asks as he sits down across from Derek who has taken the other chair. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, no.” Xavier smiles, “nothing like that.” Stiles feels his nerves calm a bit with the reassurance. “No, Stiles, we wanted to talk to you about a new mentorship?”

“Laura doesn’t want me anymore?” Stiles is confused, he’d just been in the garage bugging Laura the day before, surely she would have said something. 

“Let him finish, Stiles.” Derek huffs. 

“Sorry.”

“As I was saying, a new mentorship. This would not take the place of the one you and Laura have, that will remain, but this instead would be specialized, and would focus more on your abilities.”

“My ability?”

“Yes,” Xavier nods, “This mentorship would focus on using, controlling and discovering the true extent of your abilities, as well as a level of combat and skills development.”

“Combat?” Stiles asks, truly confused, “skills development...wait. Hold the phone! Are you guys asking me to train as an X-Man?”

“It would be on a probationary level.” Xavier agrees.

“Are-Are you crazy?!” Stiles stands, complete disbelief rushing through him. 

“I thought you wanted this?” Derek says, obviously confused by his outburst. 

“I do!” Stiles paces, hands on his hips.

“Then what’s the problem?” 

Stiles stops and looks down at them, “What part of my trauma, aversion to touch and frequent panic attacks, makes you think I would be a good candidate for the X-Men?” He stills as he feels the familiar touch of Xavier against his mind, “No!” Stiles says, “Don’t. You don’t need to read my mind to know that this is not a good idea.”

The Professor looks a bit surprised, but somewhat proud as he rolls forward, placing a hand on Stiles’ forearm, where it was covered by his shirt, “I don’t need to read your mind to know that you worry about being good enough, that you feel your past marks you in some indefinable way that makes you something less than worthy.” Stiles swallows, unable to look at either of them, “But Stiles, there was never any failing in you. You were put in an impossible situation, alone and on the run, and every day you fought. Whether to simply survive, or to help others like your friend Jasmine. You have every trait I look for in my students, and you had them even in the worst of circumstances.”

“I can’t  _ touch _ anyone.” Stiles grounds out, “Even with my dad it’s hard, and I know everything about him. I panic, and I see things that people don’t want to share.” he looks guiltily at Derek. 

“You’ll learn to control that.” Xavier soothes, “Derek has offered to be your mentor.” Stiles’ head shoots up looking at Derek. He looks back steadily, not shying away. 

“You-you would do that?” he asks. 

“It was Derek that nominated you for the team.” Xavier explains, and really, that’s all he had to say.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's been so long between updates, I'm a working professional with a social life and sometimes that gets in the way. But I promise I am working to finish the story. Love to you all for the kudos and comments that keep me motivated! <3


	8. Chapter 8

 

   Okay, so Stiles was going to be an X-Man. Stiles was going to be an  _ X-Man?!? _ Stiles was  _ going _ to be an X-Man. He could handle that. He was totally X-Men material. Right? Right. Cool... Who did he think he was kidding? What the hell were Xavier and Derek even thinking? Stiles paced around the living room, mumbling under his breath as his father looked on with an amused smile. 

“They must see something pretty special in you” The ex-sheriff said. 

“Right”  Stiles scoffed, continuing his path across the room to the kitchen, opening and closing the refrigerator without taking anything out, and turning back to his dad. “What am I going to do?”

“Train?” His father suggested, as if it was that easy. 

“Useless.” Stiles shook his head, collapsing into his mom’s old reading chair. It was big and fluffy, faded with use, but perfect to curl up in. 

“Listen,” His father said, leaning towards him from his place on the sofa. “I know that you’re overwhelmed, and I know that you went through a lot. Are going through a lot.” Reaching out, his dad laid a tentative hand on the bare skin of Stiles’ ankle, and Stiles smiled relieved when nothing happened and he was able to just relax into the touch. “But listen,” he continued, “You are worthy.” Stiles could feel tears prickling at the back of his eyes, at the word. “You are good, and you care about others no matter what. You’ve been through hell and you still  _ care _ . I am proud of you Stiles, so so proud, and Xavier and the rest of them will be lucky to have you. But you need to know, that no matter what you’ve been through, you are still you. You are deserving of this chance and the faith everyone puts in you.” Stiles crawled into his father’s lap, letting his tears fall and feeling safe, completely safe, and seen for the first time in years. 

\--

When Stiles saw Laura the next day at breakfast she smiled knowingly and punched him in the shoulder harder than was necessary. “Abuse!” he yelled, smiling brightly. Something in his chest seemed looser than the day before, letting him breathe easier and feel lighter. Laura tilted her head, seeming to notice as she sat down at the table across from him. 

“I’m proud of you Bambi.” 

“Bambi, pup...pick one already” He suggested, hiding his pleased grin behind a glass of orange juice.

“My Bambi, all grown up and getting ready to fight for the cause” She continued, pretending to weep into her napkin.

“Oh shut it.” Stiles rolled his eyes, secretly pleased that she was happy for him. Not that he ever thought Laura of all people would not be happy for him, but she had a protective streak at times. “I assume you had something to do with Derek nominating me for the team?”

“Me?” Laura asked, batting her eyelashes innocently, Stiles looked on unimpressed. “Okay yes, maybe I backed my blockheaded brother up, when he mentioned you. He did put you forward all on his own though. Which is new.” She said, taking a bite of her toast and swallowing, “Last time he did that was Boyd and that’s been three years now.”

“Do you take on new members often?” He asked, sincerely curious. He knew there were a number of active X-Men members, but mostly they seemed to be professors and a few assorted allies. No other students that he knew were active in the stealth missions. 

“Once in a while.” she said, thinking it over, “Since Derek and I joined five years ago, I think we’ve taken in four new members?” 

“Why so few?” Stiles asked, “Surely almost everyone graduating from here wants in.”

“Less than you’d think probably. I mean, a lot of people who wake up with an activated X-Gene just want life to go back  to normal. Barring that, they want control and the ability to pretend that things are normal.” 

“Still…”

“Still” Laura nodded in agreement, “there are lots of students who want in, sure. Not all of them want in for the right reasons though. We don’t take revenge seekers, or machismo laden guys looking for a fight. You have to meet the criteria, you have to be more than average and you have to want to be useful in a way that doesn’t just mean pounding the other guy’s face in.” She gave him a soft smile, “there are other qualifiers of course, but you’ll just have to learn those for yourself. You’re part of the family now.”

“Speaking of family, you going to tell me what Peter left you in that envelope?”

“Nope.” Laura popped her P and smiled, looking up as Derek took a seat at her side.

“Did you meet him the other night?” 

“Nope” Laura answered again.

“Meet who?” Scott asked, taking a seat next to Stiles. 

“Our uncle was in town” Laura explained, “But Derek and I had previous plans.” 

“Oh that’s too bad” Scott said, oblivious to the lie. 

“Yep, a real shame” Laura nodded, working open an orange with a sharp nail. Stiles snorted and ate a spoonful of cereal, watching as Derek grabbed a piece of toast across from him. 

“When are you free?” Derek asked Stiles as he slopped entirely too much jam onto the bread.

“What do you mean?” 

“After school, work...when are you free?” Stiles’ brain froze for a moment, because it sounded like a line. He knew it wasn't, there wasn’t a chance of that. Derek was a teacher, and Stiles, despite his genius IQ and mutant abilities, was still a student.  Also, there was the fact that Derek was entirely out of his league, like lightyears upon lightyears out of his league.

“Uh, after school...?” 

“Okay” Derek said, taking a bite of his toast and liking the jam that slipped off of the top from his fingers. 

“Wait, what am I free for?” Stiles asked, trying to draw his eyes away from Derek’s saliva slick fingers. 

“Training.” Derek replied simply.

“Ohhhh Bambi’s first training session!” Laura’s eyes were sparkling dangerously and Stiles had a feeling that even though Derek was supposed to be his mentor for this aspect of his education, he would be training with both of the twins for the foreseeable future. 

“Training?” Scott asked, looking confused. Stiles felt immediately guilty. Scott had become an amazing friend to him over the last couple of months, and he didn’t know how he’d take the news that Stiles has basically waltzed into school and taken one of the coveted X-Men spots out from under everyone.

“Yeah….” Stiles stalled.

“Stiles is going to start training for The Team.”  Laura winked. The Team was definitely capitalized when she said it, and Scott seemed to get her meaning right away too. Maybe it was school slang. Couldn’t really go around shouting about a secret mutant organization in day to day life. Not if you wanted it to remain secret anyway.

“That’s awesome!” Scott exclaimed.

“Wait really?” Stiles asked, looking to his side at Scott’s beaming face. 

“Of course!” Scott grabbed Stiles’ t-shirt covered shoulder and shook it excitedly. “You’ll be great!” 

“But you’re not like….” Stiles started, not knowing how to finish the sentence without saying something like jealous or angry which would seem either completely douchey or like he didn’t trust Scott to be a good friend. Scott seemed to get the idea after a second anyway, his smile turning soft as he shook head.

“No way man, you couldn’t pay me to get in that gear,” Scott shrugged, “I’m a pacifist.” At first Stiles thought Scott might just be playing it cool, but lunch continued with no flash of hurt or jealousy from his friend, followed by their shared English Lit class, and Stiles let himself relax. 

He was still trying to remember, as he built his new life at Xaviers’, that not everyone had a hidden side that would eventually come out to bite him. In fact, no one thus far had demonstrated those traits. That thought in itself was enough to put him on edge until his first training session that night.

___

Fang tried to follow Stiles down from the dorm room after classes were over, but Scott called the reluctant pup back, knowing that whatever Stiles would be getting up to, a puppy shaped distraction would be a hindrance. Stiles appreciated it as his nerves are already frayed, worried about what exercises they would put him through and how much physical touch he’d have to endure. Fang, though charming, was hardly what he needed in this instance. 

Stiles walked slowly, avoiding any other students in the hall as he made his way to the elevator. If there was another way to get to the floor marked X, he hadn’t found it yet. So he pushed the button for the sub-basement and took a deep breath as the door closed. He was surprised when the retinal display didn’t ask for any verification from him, but he assumed that since it was his first time to the restricted floor, that there must have been some exceptions made.

His nervous energy was vibrating beneath his skin, and Stiles jumped lightly on his toes and stretched out his arms as the elevator began to descend. He was wearing new clothes his father had bought him at the mall, the ex-sheriff had practically sprinted there and back between classes, wanting to make sure Stiles had something appropriate to wear besides his gym clothes. Stiles thought it was extreme overkill, but his dad was still in overcompensating for time lost mode. 

The clothes were a bit different from what he would normally wear. Tight yoga pants falling to mid calf, deep black and soft against his skin. They were comfortable and moved with him easily, probably good for physical training. They were so tight though, that Stiles couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy about the way they molded to his no doubt still unappealing skinny legs. He’d put a little weight back on since he'd started living at Xavier's, but he still felt like it was obvious he had been underfed for a long while. The shirt his dad had bought was better, a red tank top that was a little big, but not enough to be slipping off, just to the point that it wasn't sticking to him and making him selfconsious. It was comfortable soft cotton and the words ‘I Wish You Were Pizza’ were written across the front. _Truer words..._ , he thought.

The elevator doors opened smoothly, unveiling the ultra modern decor of a large lobby and a large man sitting behind an unassuming desk. The man was big, bulging muscles and long dreadlocks making him look suitably intimidating. He didn't look up as Stiles exited the elevator, instead staring at a computer monitor, clicking away with a mouse that looked small in his large hands. Stiles assumed he must have been the one to allow him access to the floor in the first place, since the security measures hadn’t engaged. 

“Uh..hi” Stiles said, the man brought his eyes to look at Stiles with an unimpressed air.

“Second door on the right” He said with a deep slightly accented voice, “Tell Hale I’m not a hall monitor.” 

“Uh, yep, yeah, will do.” Stiles rushed, taking the directions as an opportunity to make a quick get away from the man's pressuring gaze. He skittered down the hall, stopping briefly outside a set of double doors that opened automatically for him as he approached. Inside Stiles was completely unsurprised to see the twins sparring on a wide blue matt in the center of the room. What was surprising though, was their unnatural speed and how Laura jumped high into the air, pouncing on her brother, then sending them rolling off the matt and across the floor, pinning Derek with razor sharp looking claws against his neck. 

“So…this is new.” Stiles muttered. Both Hales stilled, turning towards him with golden glowing eyes and playful smirks. “Uh, just so you know the Colossus at the door is not happy with you.”

“Piotr’s back?” Laura asked, getting to her feet and giving her brother a hand as he got up from the floor.

“Uh, the big guy with the pretty dreadlocks?”

“Oh, that’s Bishop, don’t worry about him, he’s fresh back from an op and shouldn’t have made a bet with me if he didn’t want desk duty.” Laura smiled, “The man knows he always loses.” 

“Right” Stiles shook his head as the twins eyes, and were those fangs?, receded. 

“So is this where I learn about your super secret twin mutation?”

Derek huffed a laugh, “It’s not a secret.”

“Well for it not being a secret, you two seem to be pretty sparing with the details.”

“We’re wolves.” Derek shrugged, and Stiles was definitely no more enlightened than he was moments before. Apparently his confusion showed, because both Laura and Derek rolled their eyes and then quickly transformed into giant wolves.

"Oh" Stiles tilted his head to the side, "huh." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's been so long between updates, I'm a working professional with a social life and sometimes that gets in the way. But I promise I am working to finish the story. Love to you all for the kudos and comments that keep me motivated! <3


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